Dognapper's Dilemma
by Brigsee
Summary: The early Nineties, global recession, Australia's social fabric forever changes, generational welfare and unemployment set in. A diminutive man, early thirties, a virgin, settles into a life of crime to avoid the dole queue and loss of dignity. Identified by police must jettison his valuable stock of dogs, what next? Best mate sets up a Blind Date; finally jettison his cherry?
1. Lost and Found

Blue bug eyes, big for his face, guided by a nicotine stained index digit, roll down Lost & Found in the morning classifieds.

Disappeared 4 yo desexed Kelpie bitch from Blcktown area.

Much loved family pet. Answers to Bingo. Generous reward.

Ph 610 8243.

'Bingo! ...You little ... Bloody ... Beauty.'

Blue bug eyes, agreeably spaced, a shrimp sized man, shoulders strong, seriously broad but legs wirey and thin. So stick-like, he always wears jeans. All who know this miniature man, including mum, call him Splinta. What's Splinta's profession? Dognapper!

Splinta lights up a rolly, washes it down with steaming black coffee. Newspaper, old enamel mug, tobacco and ashtray's placement on old grey Formica top table, begin each day the same as the last.

Cafe curtains, a gift from mum, grace the kitchen window. Curtain print depicts honey jars and busy busy worker bees, laden with nectar, returning to the hive. Dairy cows, goodly generous udders and pitchers pouring milk. Bug eyes to the window focus on a Kelpie chained to paling back fence of his rented cottage in "Job Search Suburbia Sydney".

'And Bingo was her name-O' sings Splinta returning to Lost & Found reassured.

"Generous!" One hundred dollarsd? Four foot ten inches tall in thickest woollen socks, this diminutive man's back in business and blows a celebratory smoke ring.

Smiling, teeth stained. Bug eyes follow the smoke ring, perfectly encircling 50 watt unshaded globe before encountering the ceiling, shattering, absorbing into yellowish brown paint, tainted and stained, resembling Splinta's teeth.

Nabbing dogs? No problems. Collecting rewards? The occasional hic cup and yet stressful! More so in recent times.

'Are all dog lovers suddenly broke?' Asks Splinta, then mutters. 'A recession we had to have.'

Splinta's curly sandy hair needs a trip to the barber, and he hasn't shaved for a few days. No need! Hasn't been anywhere. No rewards to claim. No money for the pub, overstocked with a dozen hungry dogs.

'Bloody overheads are a killer. Bloke's spendin' more on dog food than beer.'

And that's not all! He's nearly out of valium, considers taking some himself but saves it for the dogs.

'Gotta keep 'em sedated. Don't want the neighbours complaining.'

Sedatives! Another overhead! Splinta pays full price for valium. Self employed; no Health Care Card. Chemist's receipts kept for the taxman.

His mate The Wizard gets his pension the day after tomorrow. Splinta considers borrowing a few bob to fill a repeat prescription; his last. Trouble is, The Wizard will shout him a gut full of grog. Not that he'd mind a few beers; help wash down troubled times but Splinta hates feeling indebted, unlike his brother-in-law O'Possum O'Grady who arrives at the pub penniless.

'Bloody missus gives me bugger all for a few beers with the mates.'

O'Possum stands at the bar whinging about Birgit his wife. Splinta buys him beers to shut him up. It's shut him up or deck him because Birgit is Splinta's sister; older by four years, nine inches taller.

Blowing another smoke ring, Splinta knows he smokes excessively so early in the morning. Smoke ring wafts away, missing the globe. Cigarette stubbed, coffee sipped another rolly prepared one handed. His are man-size worker's hands. Continue down Lost & Found delivered promptly each morning by the local newsagent; the monthly account promptly paid, another tax deduction.

Lost Miniature Foxy brown and white 5 yrs bitch ped Fairfield area. Reward. Her name is Fergie, please return her to us. Ph 672 4460.

'A Royal name. With a bit of luck? A Royal reward?'

Fergie nabbed three days ago, his last nab. Hasn't touched the car since, conserving petrol for the day heartless owners open wallets. Continue down Lost & Found.

Lost desexed German Shepherd bitch ...

'Who cares if the bitch's desexed? How would the average Joe know anyway? Some people!' mutters Splinta, no German Shepherds in his care. Next ad ...

Lost Doberman Pinscher ped 1yr male. Answers to Sir Bastion. Lost Wollongong area. $500 reward. Ring 042 69181.

'You little beauty! Five hundred smackaroos.'

To the corner phone box goes Splinta and rings The Wizard. The Serendib Guest House Landlady eventually answers the phone after all it's only six in the morning. Without complaint she goes to summon Wizard.

Waiting; Splinta studies the phonebox walls, a magnet for grafittists and smutbags, locality index of who sux. Splinta spots a new addition to the sux index.

"Mary K sux big juicy dogs balls."

Splinta wonders if Mary K exists, and if so, seriously doubts this slanderous accusation. Mary K rejected an arsehole and this be his revenge. Or thinks Splinta, a jealous bitch. Perhaps Mary K stole someone's boyfriend. In high school Splinta remembers that the visiting football team were always allocated the boys change shed. The home team relegated to the girls; the graffiti there far worse. Gossip and bullying, very surprising reading; Splinta thought himself shock proof. Until discovering his sister's name, not too high on the wall. Splinta sat in front of the lewid accusation, sweating profusely putting on his football boots. That night he returned to the girl's change shed with a tin of white paint. His first crime; protect his sister's name; indeed the family name.

What surprises Splinta is this powerful Mary K imagery. What if? If it is true? Splinta shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts. The image persists. Must be working with dogs too long, surmises the dognapper, hitting his head twice with the telephone hand piece to rid himself of the persistent vile image.

A voice asks, 'What's that knocking noise? What time is it?'

'Did I get ya out of bed Wizard?' A pause. 'He he he' laughs Splinta. 'Best time of day.'

'The birds aren't up yet!'

'Well ya up now. How about helping me with a few deliveries.'

'Deliveries?' Stammers the Wizard.

'I've got three and they're all over the place. Your idea about goin' down to the 'Gong paid big dividends.'

More grumbling on the line.

'No! No Wiz. You drive, I'll mind the parcels. There's plenty of TABS on the way. Soon as I make the last delivery you can have a few beers. Then I'll do all the drivin'.'

Wizard agrees.

'Good on ya mate. I'll ring the customers, have a shave, spruce up the parcels then pick ya up.'

Plan simple; Blacktown, Fairfield south to the 'Gong. Should be finished about lunch. Find a pub or club in the 'Gong, pour medicine into Wizard. Then back to the local and relax with several cold beers. Watchin' Wizard drink half a dozen middys in the 'Gong will be painful. Splinta needs to stay sober, not only to drive, but more importantly, stop Wizard getting them both into a huge shout and havin' to stay in the 'Gong for a few days.

'Blimey! That Wizard has a knack, turns complete strangers into long-lost friends.'

Return man's best friends in top condition, makes the owners more grateful, but involves a degree of difficulty. Returning them sedated could cause complications and a call to the police. Two mutts revived, alone in a locked car, normally vent aggression ripping into seats but the back seat and most of the front testifies to canine calamity. Torn, ripped, shredded, shambolic vinyl and foam, springs exposed, savaged litter covers the floors; handles chewed off doors. No Wizard, no seats, no escape, no point returning one dog or more.

Splinta makes the necessary appointments, keeping spent phone card; another tax deduction.

The Wizard of Wombat (full title), freshly shaven, combed back grey full hair, held with brylcream, wears a purple tie. His cream shirt never ironed, navy blue suit coat and beige cuffless trousers, all purchased from a local op-shop. Only cheap blue runners bought new! Wizard draws a lines at second hand footwear, except in extreme hardship. Hidden behind scratchy sunglasses The Wizard's eyes somewhat glazed watery and red, betray the previous nights celebratory drinks. "Wink At Me", a longshot, got up at Rosehill.

The Wizard casually walks down Serendib's driveway. reaching into his coat pocket for filter cigarettes. Splinta pulls up in an old, very old Chrysler Valiant sedan. Cigarettes slide back to rest.

Splinta vacates the driver's seat, opens the backdoor and jumps in. The Wizard peers into his mate's car for the first time, the seats taking his eye.

'Is it manual or automatic?' asks Wizard.

'All ya do is steer it.'

'You sure ya need me Little Splinta? They're like lambs.'

'Head for Blacktown. You know where it is?'

Wizard's hand checks for aggressive springs. Sat; he practises using blinkers, wipers and other controls then reaches for the gear stick. 'Where's the gear stick?'

'On the dash. Right-hand side. Come on! Get with it will ya Wiz?'

'There's no gear stick on the dash.'

'The buttons. Hit the "D" button.'

The Valiant eases cautiously from the gutter, accelerates then brakes hard in the quiet street.

'Blimey! What are ya doin' Wiz?'

Foot presses the accelerator. 'Yeah! I know where Blacktown is.'

Splinta sits on plywood, protecting his rear from exposed springs. The "Royal" Foxy Fergie lies in his lap, eyes open, limbs not functioning. Bingo the Kelpie lies on an old blanket stretched over the seat next to Splinta. The Kelpie stirs. Splinta looks at the motionless parcel on the floor and prays Wizard's heart be strong. As a rule sedatives gradually wear off but Splinta considers Dobermans an unpredictable breed. If any sudden moves, Splinta's foot is poised to pin Sir Bastion's head to the floor.

'If I call out for food? Grab a handful of dog biscuits in that bag sitting next to ya and drop them just over the back of the front seat. What ever ya do, don't throw them, just drop them. I don't want any landing between my legs.'

Wizard glances at the bag.

In the rear vision mirror Splinta sees The Wizards face. Old bloke's scrubbed up better than anticipated. 'Where'd ya go yesterday?'

'Had a dollar each way at forty to one.'

'Did it get up?'

'Flew home! If only a bloke knew. Knew for certain it was goin' to win. Would've put four dollars on.'

Ignoring this piece of logic, Splinta pats Bingo's head.

The Wizard enquires 'Hey Little Splinta! Why don't ya get some seats from the wreckers?'

'What? Do away with one of me best assets?'

'Please Little Splinta! No guessing games.'

'Insurance! Nobody's goin' to steal this car. Besides! Any replacements will suffer the same fate.' ... 'How fast are you goin'?'

'Sitting on eighty.'

'The speedo's in miles per hour. Crikey Wiz! Last thing we need, a nosy cop. Drop back to fifty.'

'Little Splinta, how come you haven't been to the pub lately?'

'No money! Gone, spent on dog food. All goin' well, I'll be shouting a few this arvo. Three dish-lickers gone; overheads reduced. There's one little flea-bitten mongrelbeen free loading for a month. Ha. Ya know what I call it? ... Stupid! And it actually answers. No wonder nobody advertised a reward. When you get a chance! Can you take him to the pound?'

'Stupid sounds like a perfect companion for Charlie Sea. Leave it to me Little Splinta.'

'How ya gonna do that?'

'A bit of wizardry.'

'You know what I don't understand? Why do we put on a singalong and draw the only decent crowd the Rose & Thorn gets anymore, when you detest Charlie so much? He'd be bankrupt and out. Might get a decent publican in there. Bit of competition for High Noon. How long since ya got a few freebies at High Noon? Not since Charlie took over the Rose & Thorn.'

'Wizard's have reasons. Don't think I detests Charlie. He's a prick with ears. I hate the bastard's guts.'

'Better slow down Wiz. There's the Blacktown turnoff.'

Kelpie's address found, they drive on further and find a children's park in a side street. Splinta always parks the car a distance away before walking the parcels home. Advertising one's identity through car registration could cause early retirement.

Bingo! Only a couple of hundred meters from home but still sedated. The Wizard switches off Valiant motor, slumps in driver's seat, wiping face with handkerchief.

'What ya doin'?' questions Splinta. 'You've gotta get out and open up me door.'

'What?'

'I've got no handles. Let me out of here Wiz.'

Made aware, The Wizard slowly, painfully slow for Splinta's purposes, opens the back door. Splinta drags out the doped up Doberman and ties him to the back bumper bar. Wizard slumps back into the driver's seat.

'All we can do is wait.' explains Splinta, preparing a rolly, standing next to the open driver's door.

'There's a tap over there.' Wizard points. 'Shower the dog and wake it up.'

'Be patient! No good delivering soaked parcels. Don't give 'em an opportunity to get nosy. I go in with the parcel. I collect a reward and get out. Virtually no conversation unless they try reneging.'

'It's all right for you Little Splinta.' complains Wizard, stomach held by both hands. 'I've got a fire in me guts. Only a beer can put it out. How about getting a few stubbies? There's a pub down the road.'

'How many? How many middys last night? You don't look that crook.'

Removing sunglasses, Wizard reveals very sorry eyes.

'Shit!' gasps Splinta. 'Ya just startin' to sober up. Go splash ya face under the tap.'

'Need a beer. Not water. Bloke's bloody crook.'

'You don't usually get this crook. Don't tell me. Were you drinkin' at the Rose & Thorn?'

The Wizard nodding yes, groans.

'No wonder ya crook. Charlie's got the worst beer in Sydney. Why do ya do it? Do ya think ya can get Audrey into the cot? Your way of getting at Charlie? Screwin' his missus?'

Another, longer, pathetic groan.

Opening the back door Splinta puts a lead on Bingo. 'Come on gal. Come on Bingo.' The Kelpie responds sluggishly. Splinta walks her around the car, keeping watch for inquisitive strangers. 'Come on Bingo. Get them legs working. You're nearly home.'

"Good enough!' thinks Splinta. Quick brush, check on Fergie, coming to life. 'I'm going to close the door Wiz so the Foxy doesn't escape. Why don't you get out for a spell? Won't be long.'

Another groan.

Splinta closes the door, takes Bingo home.

Generous! "Little Lady" musters a measly forty five dollars. She agreed to one hundred on the phone but hasn't been to the bank yet. She gives some lame excuse 'bout havin' just got the kids off to school.

'What a disorganised bitch.' thinks Splinta.

She offers to get the difference straight away. Not much good to Splinta. He's trying to run a business and knows what women are like. She'll stop for milk and bread and so on. While he sits around waiting, Wollongong getting further and further away. He tells her "Stick it".

Briskly back to the car Splinta discovers Fergie standing on back legs, front paws resting on Wizard's shoulder, licking sweat streaming from the old bloke's face.

'Go away little doggie.' moans a suffering Wizard between groans.

'Jeez! A hospital case on me hands.' Splinta opens the driver's door, recoiling from escaping heat. Picking up Fergie, she licks his face, tries breaking free back to The Wizard. Splinta takes her to the tap, keeping a wary eye, should the "Little Lady" from Bingo's house happen this way. She'd let fly with four letter superlatives about his size and well being, after Splinta slammed shut the front gate suggesting her arse would make a good kennel. Ungrateful bitch, then tried skitching the Kelpie onto him.

Transferred to the back seat, The Wizard between groans, moans 'Go away little doggie.' Fergie licks his face. Every window partially open, old Valiant heads for Fairfield. 'A beer will fix him up.' thinks Splinta. 'Get rid of the Foxy first.'

Splinta parks near the club, a short walk to Fergie's home.

Fergie's owners', a pensioner couple Max and Beryl, reward Splinta a crisp hundred. The Foxy's homecoming creates much excitement and Splinta creeps off, happily twirling the lead. That's the way to do business. Genuine people, genuinely pleased, got their dog back. No questions asked.

Approaching the old Valiant, Splinta hears 'Go! Go away little doggie.'

'Crickey! Better get him a beer quick. Silly old bastard's startin' to hallucinate.'

Dog lead bundled into back pocket, Splinta hurries to the club, not looking in on his mate and soon returns with two icy stubbies and a cola for himself.

Sir Bastion, front paws on Wizard's chest, confronts Splinta opening driver's door. The Doberman growls, growls so menacingly, Splinta backs away, gently closing the door.

'Blimey! What bloody next?' mumbles Splinta, cold stubbies tempting. No! The cola cracked open feels good slipping down a dry throat. How much better a stubby would taste? Open the back door. Let Sir Bastion wander off. Okay! Let five hundred dollars wander off. There's a hundred and forty in my pocket, not bad for a few hours work. Wizard's sick, sicker than a dog, needs medication fast. Just turned ten o' clock, heat's stifling, a trip to the 'Gong not appealing at all but. ... But there's the question of his professionalism and also another question. When will he see 500 dollars again? These are hard times!

Through the rear windscreen, Splinta spies Sir Bastion slobbering after every sweat bead forming on a protesting face and recalls Wizard's disgust; dognapping! Illegality caused no concern but working with dogs? The Wizard hates dogs, yet they appear mighty partial to him.

Hiding below the window, Splinta gently pulls open the rear door handle. Gently open. Sir Bastion turns and growls, dognapper backs off, mission accomplished.

After twisting open a stubby and savouring the popping sound, Splinta crouches behind the rear door, stubby dangling from teeth. Right hand fingers slide between door and body panel. A deep breath through nose. Splinta pulls open the door, leaps into car, left arm extended, large left palm reaching up and under Sir Bastion's chin. Fingers grab, locking into the skin. Doberman whimpers, jaws locked tight, head pushed into springs.

Splinta's right hand removes stubby from teeth and waves it under Wizard's nose. 'Get that inta ya Wiz. Quick! Take it.' Splinta shoves stubby between Wizard's lips, amber spills down chin and purple tie. Eyes open, a trickle got through. Splinta pours again, energy fading fast in the stinking heat. Wizard hands clutch at stubby, Splinta lets go, seizes it back. 'Take a breath Wizard. ... Now another gulp. ... Not too much. Ya gunna have to help me mate. ... Grab the lead from me back pocket'

'Ahh! Ahh! What lead?'

'The bloody dog lead. In me back pocket. Come on! Wiz! It's like a bloody sauna in here.'

Another gulp, then The Wizard slides between Splinta and front seat.

'Have ya got it?' demands Splinta.

'Yeah! Here it is.'

'Well slip it onto the mongrel's collar.'

'Me?'

'Come on! Are you The Wizard or what?'

Wizard fumbles. Sir Bastion feels Splinta's grip weakening and ceases whimpering. Eyes focus, waiting a chance at Splinta's throat.

'Come on Wizard. Come on! You can do it.'

'I think it's on.'

'I bloody hope so. Get out of the car.'

Wizard backs out arse first. Splinta pulls the lead, it's secure. In one simultaneous motion, Splinta's left hand releases as his right hand jerks hard the Doberman's neck. Up, over and then down. The surprised animal flipped back first onto the littered floor. Legs kick mid air. Splinta drags the dog across the floor, onto the footpath then pins its head to ground with a heavy foot. He hopes nobody is watching.

'Stay still you mongrel. Or I'll lock ya in the boot.' ...

Pop! Wizard opens found second stubby.

'Quick Wiz. Grab the keys from the ignition and open the boot. There's a dish and water in there. Stay! Stay! You mongrel. ... What ya doin' Wiz?'

Wizard ambles to the driver's door,gulping his beer.

'Blimey Wiz!. There's heaps of stubbies and heaps of pubs but I've only got one throat.'

Half empty stubby placed on front floor, Wizard soon unlocks the boot, fumbling around for dish and water.

'Have ya got 'em yet?'

'Yeah! Found 'em.' calls Wizard holding a large plastic cordial bottle and old enamel dish.

'Fill the dish.'

Wizard very carefully, fills the dish to its rim.

'Jeeze!' mutters Splinta under breath. 'What's he doin' now?' Then calls 'There's a screw driver in the boot. Grab it. Bring the water bottle and screw driver here.'

Sir Bastion's bides his time, hatred boils inside. His chance. .. Chance is coming. Wizard ambles over with water bottle and screw driver. Water bottle, a little more than half full.

'Tip more water out.' orders Splinta. 'Yeah! Good. Now make a couple of holes just above the water line. ... Come on Wiz. Stab the bloody thing.'

Wizard hands Splinta the water bottle and screwdriver.

'Throw the bloody screwdriver back in the boot mate.' ... 'Wiz!'

'Yes Little Splinter.'

'Now ya gunna need a cool head here. Take the end of this lead. When I let this mongrel up, pull as hard as you can and slip it over the bumper bar.'

'Will the dog still be on it?' asks Wizard.

'Cause the bloody dog'll be on it.'

'But isn't the mongrel goin' to kill one of us?'

'Only if we let it.' answers Splinta, legs turning rubbery and not amused that it's question and answer time. 'Now take the end of the lead. Believe me Wiz. You've got the simple job.' ... 'Ready Wiz?' The dognapper knows Sir Bastion's ready.

'Yeah!' replies Wizard recalling his last spell in hospital.

Right hand grips lead an inch from the collar and in Splinta's left palm the upright water bottle. Foot releases, just a little before pressing down hard again, a manoeuvre creating uncertainty. Foot releases a second time and Splinta side steps to the Doberman's right. Sir Bastion lunges, rear legs stretching, mouth yawning for Splinta's throat. Splinta's left hand thrusts the bottleneck into the dogs wide open mouth.

'Pull it. Pull the lead Wiz. ... Harder!'

Sir Bastion's lungs fill with water, as an unknown force pulls and chokes from behind.

'Hurry up Wiz.'

'It's on!' calls Wizard.

'Get clear mate.'

Splinta reefs the bottle free and scurries clear. The dog drops in gravel, choking and gasping for air, tasting unmitigated terror. Hatred drowned, replaced with respect.

'Good work Wizard.' Splinta slaps his mate's shoulder. 'Finished that second stubby already?'

'No! Where did I leave it?'

'Grab the dog biscuits while ya there Wiz.'

Soon found stubby, shakes in Wizard's hands and it's not DT's. Adrenaline floods. Emptied stubby he leaves on the floor. What a shocking way to make a living; the Doberman retches and coughs violently. Returning with dog biscuits The Wizard's hand digs into the bag.

'Not yet!' says Splinta. 'Let him cough up water. Besides! We might make him earn his tucker.'

'Talkin' 'bout earning Little Splinta. Do you think I earned myself another two stubbies?'

'You earned more than just two. But first the 'Gong. You'll have to drive.'

A police Sergeant and young Constable, seconded from station duty, transport a prisoner from Long Bay Gaol to Fairfield Court. Away from their usual geography, the Constable's short cut has them lost. The Sergeant studies a street directory. No urgency; sentencing is scheduled for the afternoon. The Constable observes Splinta, The Wizard and an outstanding Doberman suffering convulsions. The four seater utility with secured black canopy, pulls behind Splinta's old Valiant.

'We've got company.' says Wizard first spotting the police car.

'Blimey! Just what we need. The boys in blue.'

The Constable approaches asking 'What's wrong with the dog.'

'Must've swallowed a fly.' replies Wizard.

'It's a beautiful animal. Who owns him?'

'I do.' answers Splinta, bug eyes heeding the Sergeant inspecting the old Valiant.

'Where are you taking him?' quizzes the Constable.

'Taking him for his first root.' answers Wizard.

'How much do ya charge?'

'Two hundred.' replies Wizard.

'That's not much for what appears an extremely well bred dog.'

'We get the pick of the litter.' Splinta interjects.

'Sounds fair.' agrees the Constable. 'Do you have the dogs pedigree papers?'

'Yeah!' answers Splinta. 'But not on me.'

The Sergeant inspects empty stubby still a touch cool and joins the others asking 'Who owns the vehicle?'

'I own it.' answers Splinta. 'Something wrong?'

'Yes! Something's wrong. You should be locked up. It's nearly impossible to get this model Valiant. "R" series! Should be treated with respect, not abused. My father owned one, helped wash and polish it every Sunday. Learned to drive in it. It breaks my heart to defect it.'

'You mean the seats? I left the dog in the car while doing a quick shop for me pensioner mum. When I got back I cried when I saw the damage.'

'You shouldn't leave a dog locked in a car. Besides! When did you last wash and polish it? Never?'

'It's been a while.' agrees Splinta.

'Constable! Defect the vehicle.'

The Constable soon rummages through the police vehicle glove box.

The Sergeant continues, addressing The Wizard. 'Would you mind removing the sunglasses sir?' Wizard reveals frightful eyes. 'Should defect you as well.'

'Can I put my glasses back on? The sun's hurting my eyes.'

'Who's driving the vehicle?'

'I am.' replies Splinta.

'You been drinking?'

'No! Haven't had a drop for a week.'

Defect notices found, the Constable slides them under front seat.

'What about you sir? You been drinking this morning?

'Just a couple to fix me guts.'

The Sergeant addresses Splinta. 'Make sure he doesn't go anywhere near the wheel. Can you produce your driver's licence?'

Splinta produces his wallet but the Sergeant notices the Constable's inactivity and calls 'Something wrong?'

The Constable beckons his senior for a private word.

'No defect notices in the glovebox.'

'Call traffic for backup.'

'I was thinking, the vehicle appears mechanically sound. I could tell them to take the Doberman 'round to my sister's bitch. Be a pup in it for ya Sarge. Top guard dogs. Worth maybe five hundred if you don't decide to keep it.'

'You do the talking Constable. Make sure the midget's licence is in order.'

Sarge manoeuvres discreetly away, the Constable produces a notebook, jots down licence details and walks away. Wizard motions Splinta should follow.

'Appears in order.' says the Constable handing back the licence and continues in lowered voice. 'I was thinking, if you take the dog and papers 'round to service my sister's well bred bitch. I'll suggest we forget the defect notice if you promise to do the repairs.'

'Sounds fair!'

The Constable calls 'Sarge!'

'He's promises to repair the car tomorrow. We can leave it at that can't we?'

'Promise to wash and polish it regularly.' demands Sarge.

'I will. Every week from now on.'

'It's bloody hot in here.' screams a prisoner from the secured police van. 'Can't we get going, instead of you pricks gas bagging.'

'Who's your well spoken passenger?' enquires Wizard.

'Snaky Adams.' answers the Constable. 'Small time peddler. Caused serious injury to two of our fellow officers. Got him in Perth. Thought he'd be safe there. The law doesn't take kindly to criminals causing grievous bodily harm to members of the force. Read about him tomorrow.'

'Youse!' commands Sarge. 'Go about your business.'

Wizard freezes, Sarge orders 'Get in the car.'

'Feed him biscuits.' says Splinta opening the back door.

'It's a beautiful dog. Don't you reckon Sarge?'

Wizard throws biscuits on the floor before jumping in. Splinta ushers Sir Bastion in, dog prises biscuits from the littered floor.

'Don't disappoint my sister.' The Constable hands Splinta a phone number through the open driver's window.

'I'll ring her tonight.'

'I'd be very upset if my little sister ... Only an idiot would go back on his word. You're not an idiot are you?'

'I'll ring.' answers Splinta, easing the old Valiant onto the road and south to the 'Gong.

'The fire's back in me guts.' Wizard complains, perspiration again trickling. Sir Bastion forgoes food and resumes his nursing role.

Geoff's house nestles below Wollongong's escarpment. Late forties, sporting grey trimmed beard and although dressed for the office, Geoff busies himself weeding the front garden. Sir Bastion is his wife's beloved pedigree.

Geoff baches for a week, wife away visiting their daughter and unaware Sir Bastion disappeared. She comes home tomorrow and usually tends the gardens but today Geoff pulls weeds, Sir Basdtion's lead close by. Gardening an excuse to be out front because he is anxious, very anxious for Sir Bastion's return.

Reward notices in the local paper proved fruitless. Advertising in the Sydney papers; a desperate longshot. How in the world did the dog end up in Sydney? This morning's phone call a blessing but now the caller's an hour overdue and Geoff's expected back at work.

Splinta checks house numbers walking Sir Bastion home. Geoff spots Sir Bastion and what appears a boy bringing him home; joy turns to doubt. The dog looks like Sir Bastion but the manners? Sir Bastion is often a handful. This boy and dog walk as a unit. Splinta spots Geoff and the side gate slipped open five days before.

'How ya goin' mate?' asks Splinta, sizing up Sir Bastion's owner.

The manly voice surprises Geoff, looking into Splinta's eyes. People falter and look away, first encountering Splinta's bug eyes. Splinta expects this reaction. Geoff's eyes don't falter, neither did The Wizard's some three month's previous.

'Sorry!' says Geoff extending a hand. 'I guess the excitement of getting my wife's dog back caused me to loose my manners.' The two men greet with a firm handshake. 'Geoff's my name.'

'Everybody calls me Splinta. Jeez I hope ya missus hasn't been too upset.'

'She doesn't know he went missing and she's coming home tomorrow.'

'I've got him home just in time then.'

'You could say that.' says Geoff reaching for his wallet.

'This Geoff can be trusted.' thinks Splinta accepting a wad of notes without counting. 'I wonder if you could do me a favour?'

'I'd like to. You've certainly done me one.'

Splinta produces the Constable's note and hands it to Geoff. 'This lady, I was wondering if you could give her a call. She's got a well bred Doberman bitch and would like Sir Bastion to service it.'

'I'll ring her. What's her name?'

'We didn't go into formalities.' says Splinta peeling a hundred from the reward. 'I'll keep this for expenses.' and returns the rest.

'You sure?'

'Yeah! Don't let on that I've paid ya. Let her think you're doin' it as a favour. Okay?'

'Okay Splinta. I'll do that for you.'

Splinta hands Geoff Sir Bastion's lead before turning to leave.

'One thing Splinta before you go.'

Splinta turns back.

'What have you done to the dog?'

'What do ya mean?'

'He's always had a bit of devil in him. We've taken him to obedience school but he never really ...'

'I have a little trick' interrupts Splinta. 'If he plays up? Grab the lead about two inches from the collar and give a quick jerk backwards. Let him know who's boss, without hurtin' him.'

'Thank you Splinta.'

'No worries mate.'

Back to the old Valiant returns Splinta, his mate's made a partial recovery and suggests going to the Corrimal hotel because it's just down the road. It turns out The Wizard worked there as the cleaner some years before.

The Publican's out but expected back soon. Splinta smells ambush and proposes The Wizard go now to the TAB because he might forget his bets when having a few beers with his old boss. The Wizard agrees downing a second middy.

When Wizard leaves, Splinta hurries to the bottle shop, purchases a cold six pack, runs to the car, drives a little less cautiously than normal, doing a U turn across busy traffic to arrive out front the TAB as Wizard comes out.

Holding high the six pack Splinta calls 'Hey Wizard! Wizard of Wombat. If ya go back to the pub, find ya own way home. I've got six little fire extinguishers here for ya guts. Better jump in.'

Wizard calls back. 'What sort did you get?'

'C O2.'

'They'll do.'

They head north and home. Splinta drops The Wizard off at High Noon, drives home and checks the remaining nine canines. Only one, the one he calls "Stupid" knocked over its water dish. Splinta quickly finds another dish, much larger and loads in a brick before refilling with water. Watching Stupid's tongue lapping, increases Splinta's longing for a cold beer but the valium script's in his shirt pocket. Business before beer; first walk to the pharmacist, then pub. Money kept for taxi home.


	2. High Noon

Looking for a quiet drink? Don't go to High Noon. Jukebox booms, T.V. soapy competes only meters away and they're racing at Randwick on another screen. Spirited competition echoes across pool tables. Drinker's raise voices conversing with mates mere feet away. A decibel event; one newcomer amongst a dozen regulars when Splinta enters. Downing his middy the newcomer exits, hands over ears, ignored by Splinta. Unusual behaviour? Quite usual here. The dognapper looks around the bar. No Wizard!

Three exhaust fans, strategically employed in low false ceiling drone on inconspicuously. Three glossy posters, strategically placed about the bar, advertise exotic dancers. Lovely Lara, a Finn, performs tonight; her first performance at High Noon. The punters enjoy new fluff, especially new fluff raffled. Drones to a new Queen. Exotic dancing pulls umpteen punters, not just regulars into High Noon. Three exhaust fans toiling tonight. Busy, busy expelling smoke and erotica, fantasy and fallacy.

Maggot's photo, holding high a three kilo trout in one hand and beer bottle the other, identifies the fishing club's corner. By the bye, Maggot breeds his own bait. Alongside his photo, names nominating for next week's outing, a weekend up the coast on chartered trawler. Only eight nominations, the minimum is twelve. No worries! The same fisho's always nominate early as requested. Another half dozen are sure to go after getting half pissed and informing their wives the night before. Fisho's bring home a bounty; scaled, gutted, filleted fish and domestic situations appeased. Spousal harmony endures for the fisho's. Only Macka's onto a second wife and Maggot's the one current divorcee. Do the regular monthly weekends away from family, attribute to this phenomenon?

Dressed in greasy work overalls, Maggot demonstrates superior dexterity, feeding two hundred dollars through a card machine.

Unlike the fisho's, the punter's club includes women. Val bets this Saturday; selections and outlays chalked-up on blackboard. Twenty eight fellow members help ride her horses home. Last year Val set a record, nine successive winning weeks. Club membership doubled this year. Power point beneath blackboard accepts the punter's club radio, adding another decibel dimension to High Noon.

Another corner, another list, the schooner's club. Every Saturday, dead on high noon, a lucky name drawn from a schooner glass. Lucky name must be present and paid up. Maggot holds the record; forty one free schooners from noon to closing, collapsing or chundering, which ever comes first. Along side this thirsty list, a poster. Large lettering proclaims "JESUS IS COMING." There is no Bible Club here in High Noon, nobody admits hanging the poster or adding below "and ain't he pissed!" An honorary schooner club member, name often drawn first, Jesus is yet to front up and collect his prize.

Recessed in the top shelf, hangs a movie poster framed in glass. Gary Cooper's six gun and grim pinched face looks down on High Noon. Behind the bar Gary Cooper's devout fan pours beer. Hazel, aged mid forties, works the bar, a permanent casual for the past eighteen years. And this occurred only three weeks before.

Maggot hold his arms up high as if under arrest when approaching the bar for his many schooners. The charade intends to upset Coop's most ardent admirer. Hazy as every one calls her dismisses Maggot as the village idiot. She did, until this day. Maggot drew a water pistol and shot Coop fair between determined eyes. As Maggot blew pretend smoke from the barrel, his schooner's contents sailed over the bar. Then Hazy unleashed the soda siphon upon the irreverent Maggot, suddenly busy wiping froth and bubble from his red clowning face. The regulars joined Maggot in laughter until Hazy screamed the four letter "F"word. In eighteen years serving behind the bar, the lady never once even said "Bloody".

Hazy then only eight, yet sharply etched survives her father, broad tall and trim in khaki and slouch hat. His chest, her chest swelling with pride, as he marched past family saluting. Hazy returns salute holding back tears, the last she will see him before he bleeds to death in a Korean blizzard after stepping on a land mine.

The eldest of four children, Hazy shared daddy's passion for Gary Cooper movies. Mum's letters to Korea always contained a page from Hazy. The last letter included Hazy's crayon drawing; Coop the cowboy and in her neatest print, news of High Noon, Coop's latest movie. No Gary Cooper ever enters Hazy's life.

Splinta sits at bar's corner, his usual space, and rolls a cigarette, waiting to order. Hazy pours beer for the pool players. 'Gidday' says Splinta to a pool player, no reply! He then spots a new sign on the top shelf.

" G". Splinta scratches his head and as Hazy approaches asks 'What's that sign up there suppose to mean Hazy?'

'The publican's trying a new promotion. When you order, if you can tell me the meaning of the acronym, you don't have to pay for your beer and ... And. you receive a voucher for a free schooner on Friday night.'

'Acranym! What's an acranym?'

'Splinta! Didn't you go to school?'

'Yeah! Course I did. .. Didn't learn much.'

'It's like this. Instead of saying, for instance, Australian Capital Territory, a real mouthful. People say the A C T. Just the initials; much easier.'

'Oh', replies Splinta. 'Have ya seen Wizard? He's suppose to meet me here.'

'I expect he's gone to the TAB. He was in. Only had the one.'

Splinta pushes twenty dollars toward Hazy.

'Don't you want a free beer?' She asks.

' G. It doesn't spell anything.'

' You have to tell me what the letters stand for, if you can, you don't 'ave to pay for your beer. Then I put up another ac-ro-nym and the next person to guess the right answer gets a free beer too. Do ya understand?'

'But what's an acranym?'

'Here comes O'Possum ask him to explain.'

'Gidday Splinta! ... Have I walked in on your shout?' O'Possum O'Grady wears light blue, beginning to fade open neck cotton shirt, meticulously ironed. Blue jeans bought faded, perfect creases, testify to a dab ironing hand. O'Possum's moustache, neatly groomed, compliments a strong chin. Blue eyes border on aqua. A smidgen under six foot O'Possum dwarfs Splinta, chin barely two inches above the beer mat. 'Must be a higher stool 'round here somewhere.'

'Why don't you find it then sit ya useless arse on it?'

'You a bit touchy already mate?'

'Tell me what that spells up there and I'll shout ya a schooner.'

'That's easy enough. Wizzywig!'

'Hazy! A schooner for O'Possum.'

'Do ya think I was pouring this for myself?' she calls back from the taps.

'Wizzywig.' says Splinta when Hazy serves O'Possum's schooner.

Hazy strikes a models pose. Hand on hip, the other cupping auburn hair curling into white blouse collar. 'Splinta I'll have you know that this is, for better or worse, my own natural hair. I've never worn a wig and I'm a bit long in the tooth to start wearin' one now. Where's ya money?'

'Not ya hair Hazy. Wizzywig! That's the answer to the acranym.'

'No it's not, money please.'

'You're useless O'Possum.' Accuses Splinta then turns with a wink to the barmaid. 'Give us a hint will ya Hazy?'

'I'm not suppose to.'

'What's goin' on?' asks O'Possum. 'Why am I useless?'

'Hazy, come on. One little hint.'

' I'm afraid Splinta when it comes to words and spellin' and vocaburee. You missed that much school, I could tell ya the answer and waste my breath.' She takes Splinta's money.

'What's going on?' Asks O'Possum.

'Ask Hazy to explain it. All she's done is confuse me.'

'She's busy.'

'All ya 'ave to do is tell her what the acranym is. Then get a free schooner. It's a game.'

'Sounds easy enough... Aconym' O'Possum ponders. 'Aconym' ... 'Sounds like ummm! Did she say what an aconym is?'

'You don't know?' Splinta scornfully shakes his little head. 'And you're the one who went to fourth form. ... One rule I do understand O'Possum. Ya can only guess the acranym when ya orderin' a beer. So I guess you won't be gettin' many guesses.'

'Birgit didn't give me a bean. I'm broke 'till Friday. You know I put me dole form in tomorrow.'

'I don't know any such things. I'm not on the dole. Don't ever want to be on the bloody dole. ... I'm self employed. Un .. der .. stand?'

'Hope you don't mind shoutin' a couple of beers 'till Friday'

'I'll shout ya all ya want if you can tell me. Tell me one person. Male or female, doesn't matter. Tell me one person who's been on the dole; got off the dole then. Then amounted to anything. Go on.'

O'Possum scratches his neck.

Splinta waits. ... 'All ya can drink.'

O'Possum's scratching fingers wander to the crowns, teasing dark brown hair.

Splinta waits. ...

'Must be someone.' suggests O'Possum.

'A name! Give me a name, all you can drink.'

Scratching and pondering continues.

Splinta waits. ... 'Snakes bloody alive O'Possum. Ya can't. And I'll tell ya why ya can't. Because they all end up like you. Bloody useless.'

Hazel returns with Splinta's change. 'Guess what?'

'Blimey!' gripes Splinta raising beer to mouthj. 'Guess this. Guess that. Guess what? I'm sick of guessing.'

'Sometimes you can be an impatient little so and so.' quips Hazel.

'You tell 'im Hazy.' chimes O'Possum.

'Sir Bob said he saw The Wizard going to the library.'

'Lying Royalist idiot.' calls O'Possum loudly in Sir Bob's direction.

The short, thin, baldy, bespectacled pensioner, ignores O'Possum and retires to his usual table. Sir Bob will patiently wait, puffing his pipe and occasionally sipping beer, waiting to extol Liberal Party virtues to anybody drunk or silly enough to argue him. This is Labor territory which much amuses Sir Bob because Maggot's the only regular with a proper job.

The Wizard arrives at High Noon as Splinta shouts O'Possum another schooner. The acronym unsolved.

'Will ya explain acranym to Wizard Hazy?' requests O'Possum.

'No need to. He was in earlier, I explained it then.'

'A middy for the Wizard please Hazy.'

Wizard winks at Hazy serving the middy and says. 'What you see is what you get.'

'You won't win Hazy's heart with corny lines like that.' sniggers O'Possum.

'Why are ya changin' the acranym Hazy?' asks a puzzled Splinta.

Hazy replaces WYSIWYG with C.S.I.R.O.

'I remember learnin' 'bout that at school. Blimey! Can't remember what it stands for. O'Possum can you ... Where's he gone?' Splinta looks around for O'Possum. Discover him studying "The Lovely Lara's" glossy poster. 'Do you remember what those initials mean Wiz?'

'Commonwealth ... Serum. .. The rest will come to me. No worries Little Splinta.'

'After you go to the library again?'

'Sir Bob! Couldn't keep his mouth shut walking into a plague of bush flies.'

'You went to the library. Got the answer to the acranym. Didn't ya?' Accuses Splinta.

'It came up in conversation.'

'Who with?'

'You haven't yet met the librarian with the big tits Little Splinta. I invited her to the singalong.'

'What did she say?'

'Love to come along for a singalong. You get to meet her Friday little mate.'

Maggot fronts the bar, orders a schooner and sheepishly answers the acronym.

O'Possum returns. 'You blokes staying for the strippers tonight? I wouldn't mind having at look at the Lovely Lara.'

'Still thinkin' with ya dick?' scoffs Splinta.

'No harm in havin' a look. Isn't that right Wizard?'

'No harm at all. .. You have a little Lady waiting at home. You can pretend she's "The Lovely Lara" when you go to bed.'

'Snakes alive Wiz! I don't want to hear 'bout the things he does in bed with me sister.'

'I've never said anything about our sex life. To you blokes or anybody else. I don't plan to either. All I asked was simple enough. Do you's want to have a look?'

'No point in tryin', wouldn't see anything.' evades Splinta.

'The short blokes go to the front, close to the action. You'll see everything.' explains O'Possum.

'Let me through, right! Bastards wont let me back out. Been caught before.'

'Here? When?'

'Not here you idiot. In a pub, close to the city.'

'What pub?' asks O'Possum eagerly.

'Buggered if I know. I was that pissed. It was me twenty first birthday.'

'Come on Splinta mate.' invites O'Possum. 'You've never told us about this.'

'Not in front of Hazy.'

Discovered eaves dropping, Hazel wanders away collecting empty schooner glasses, placing them in the washer.

'She's gone now. Tell us what happened.'

'No! Another time. Maybe. Besides it's something I'm not proud of.'

'Tell us.'

'I said no.'

'Did you have a good day O'Possum?' asks a tactful Wizard.

'Have a guess what me nut case neighbour did?' O'Possum continues not waiting for any guesses. 'Bought himself a second hand metal detector and had a practise run in ...' O'Possum's laughs before continuing '... in the backyard. He .. He dug ... He dug fifty holes or more and ... And ... Then his mother came out with .. With a pair of joggers and made him take off his ... His steel capped boots.'

They all laugh, including Hazy.

'What's his name again?' asks Wizard.

'Nobby. You met him. Didn't ya Splinta?'

'Yeah. Once. That was enough.'

'How old is he?' asks Wizard.

'Early twenties but with the brain of a ten year old.'

'Why don't ya bring him in one day?' enquires Hazel.

He's the meanest streak of misery ya could wish on ya worst enemy. He'd ruin the pub Hazy. ... I tell ya how mean he is. One of those charity clubs came to the street. For one dollar, one measly dollar they'd paint your street number with glow paint on the gutter. Easy to find in the dark. Nobby was the only one in the street to send 'em packin'. And the bit that gets me, he doesn't have a number. Anywhere!'

'If you say he's mean he must be mean.' Splinta's sarcasm glides past O'Possum.

'He's mean all right. And he's boring. And thick! '

Splinta's eyes rise to the ceiling with embarrassment.

'Thicker than your mum's gravy Splinta.'

'Blimey!' Splinta springs from the stool. 'What's my mum got to do with this bullshit? First ya complain about me sister now ya on about me mother.'

'Nothing! Nothing!'

'Must be my shout.' says Wizard. 'What's the new acronym?' All three glance up: A.A.

'No wonder nobody's claimed it.' says Splinta sitting back on stool.

'Alcoholics anonymous.' O'Possum calls to Hazy pouring three beers.

'You have no shame O'Possum. None at all.' says Splinta, little head shaking with disgust.

'Tell us more about the thick neighbour.' requests Wizard.

'His mum hardly ever let him go to school. Too embarrassed. He's so illiterate, couldn't fill in the dole form, so they put him on a pension. Even the Mormons avoid ... '

'Hazy!' calls Splinta loudly to the barmaid posting another acronym. 'You honestly expect us to guess that. Do you?'

'I just work here.'

'What's wrong Little Splinta?'

'Another acranym.'

The Wizard and O'Possum exchange a glance; "NATO".

'Take it down Hazy.' demands Splinta.

'I was told to keep them in order.'

'Piss the whole lot off then.'

Hazy looks around; no boss in sight. 'Okay! I'm sick of them too.'

'Good!' Splinta rolls another cigarette.

'Keep cool Little Splinta. What were you saying about the Mormons O'Possum?'

'They avoid him. Walk on the opposite side of the street.'

'He must've abused them.' comments Wizard, hinting admiration.

'No! No! You don't get it. He welcomed them into the house. Then proceeds boring them to death. He's lonely and by God he's gonna stay that way. Blacklisted by God's disciples. 'cause when he gets an idea or an opinion 'bout something that's when he's most boringly dangerous. His mum won't even let him watch the news or any documentaries. And I told you's about the time, it was just after moving there. He .. He took home a stray dog. Kept it hidden under the house. 'cause his Mum's allergic to fleas. She broke out in rashes and welts and God knows what. Hospitalised for two weeks. When she got home, found the dog. Can ya imagine? A growin' man belted by his mum with a broom in the front yard. I guarantee one thing, he'll never bring another dog home. Even Nobby's not that stupid.'

Wizard winks at Splinta and pulls five dollars from his pocket. 'O'Possum! The Maggot just got off that machine. Should be full of money. Want to put in five Splinta?'

The dognapper organises five dollars change on the bar.

'Play it slowly.' insists Wizard.

O'Possum heads toward the card machines. This is unexpected. Only on pay he can afford to play cardies then wonders why he's broke for the next fourteen days.

'Did ya have another win on the horses?'

'Got one winner up. Supposedly an outsider, only paid twelve dollars. Covered all me bets. ... Still want to get rid of that dog?'

'Yeah! 'course.'

'Pick me up about ten tomorrow. Have the dog with ya.'

'A present for Charlie?'

'Nope! Dropping it onto O'Possum's neighbour.'

'But O'Possum said. Even the neighbor can't be that stupid.'

'Wizard's love a challenge. Especially where dills are involved. So mum's the word with O'Possum.'

'Mum's the word Wiz. ... Why do people say that?'

'Good question. But who cares?'

Beer flows for the next few hours. The Dognapper thirst insatiable after the drought. O'Possum enjoys a nice run on the cardie vacated by Maggot.

'You bloody ripper.' O'Possum's jubilant yell attracts a crowd.

Reluctantly joining the on-lookers, Maggot's face furrows, turns sickly grey. Schooner glass smashes on the floor. Maggot exits High Noon.

O'Possum excitedly waves three fifty dollar notes under his mate's noses.

'What ya get?' asks Wizard.

'A Royal Flush.'

'Mate, well done!' The Wizard congratulates O'Possum splitting winnings three ways.

'Yeah! But it was you who picked the machine Wiz.' offers Splinta. 'And upset the Maggot.'

'Three mates laugh.'

'These schooners are startin' to pour through me now.' concedes Splinta dismounting the stool and off to the Gents.

'You know what psychology is?' asks Wizard.

'Should do. Missus uses it on me all the time.'

'Curious to find out what happened to our little mate on his twenty first?'

' Of cause!'

'I'll pump him. You act disinterested. Reckon you respect his privacy. That sort of thing.'

'Okay.'

'Here he comes. He's got a few in him so it shouldn't take much. Play ya cards right.'

'I'm playing them right tonight.'

Splinta rolls a cigarette. The Wizard asks O'Possum 'You still staying for the Lovely Lara?'

'No Wizard. No way. I'll get home to the missus and kids after another couple.'

''bout time ya woke up to ya self.' comments Splinta.

O'Possum ignores his brother-in-law. 'Seen one ya seen 'em all. That's right isn't Wizard?'

'More a question for a gynaecologist. ... Little Splinta? Ever aspire to be a gynaecologist?'

'Fair dinkum Wiz. What sort of question is that? What sort of bloke would want to spend all day looking at women's ... You know? Should be a job for women doctors.'

'You ever seen one real close up Little Splinta?'

'Yeah! Thanks very much. My twenty first birthday present.'

'Couldn't have been that bad Little Splinta?'

'Told you's. I don't want to talk about it.'

'Fair go Wiz.' interjects O'Possum. 'He's got a right to his privacy?'

'Sorry Little Splinta. Sometimes it's better to talk about bad experiences instead of ...'

'You deaf or something?' responds O'Possum. 'He doesn't want to talk about it. Can't ya get the message. Talk about something else. Fair dinkum!'

'Who are you? Getting up Wiz?'

'Splinta! He's got no right. I won't have anybody talking 'bout my best mate that way.'

'Best mate?'

'He's ... ' O'Possum points his finger into The wizard's chest. ' ... trying a con. Wants your guts about that strip show. Don't let him fool ya.'

'Crickey! You're going off ya head about nothin'. You're a bigger idiot than ...'

'You'll be the idiot. It's a con.'

'What are you on about? You'll be jealous.'

'How could I be jealous? I don't know what happened?'

'Because you're a dead set deviate. Ya dick does all ya thinkin'. That's why ya such a dead beat.'

'I'm jealous of something that ... Ummm!'

'You callin' me a liar?' Splinta jumps from the stool confronting O'Possum. 'Are ya?'

'How could I?'

'You saying it never happened? I tell ya it did.'

'But you didn't say what happened Little Splinta. So O'Possum can't accuse you of telling lies.'

'I've had enough about this. Okay?' Splinta sits back on the stool.

'Good on ya Splinta.' O'Possum slaps the dognapper's shoulder before turning to Wizard. ' You've got to get up pretty damn early if ya want to catch Splinta.'

'What's he goin' on about?' Splinta asks Wizard.

'I'm afraid Little Splinta. ... He's right! I'm dying to listen to the story of your twenty first. O'Possum was awake to me from the word go.'

'He's doing it again Splinta. Don't ...'

'My story not good enough for you? Well I'm goin' tell you's. Soon as you get ya hand in ya pocket.'

'Three.' calls O'Possum to Hazy, not commenting, carrying three beers just poured.

'I was working with a builder, on a job in town. I asked him to my twenty first birthday party at the Rose & Thorn on Saturday. This was on Wednesday. "So ya turnin' twenty one on Saturday Splint. Sorry mate. Can't make it." I said actually it's me birthday today. "Well! Let's have a few beers tonight on ya real birthday." So he took me to some pub, he knew most of them in there. Told everybody 'bout me turnin' twenty one and no bull ... Shit. I've never seen so many schooners. The publican even shouted me a few scotches. Friendliest mob I ever met. By the time the strip show started, I was pretty pissy.'

Splinta brakes the story, swallowing long from his schooner before rolling another cigarette. Hazel positions herself within earshot, out of Splinta's vision.

'Anyway! Full of ink and everybody insisting. No harm in havin' a look. " Make way for Splinta." They made sure I got a front row view. Next thing I get me own chair. No sooner did I sit down, some joker brings a fancy glass, bottle of champagne and party hat, with the elastic under the chin.'

Splinta lights up his cigarette.

'I should of twigged. Must 'ave been real pissed. "Is it true ya still a virgin Splinta?" Some mongrel shouted out loud. Everybody bloody laughed at me.

'What should you have twigged?' asks O'Possum

'A set up. Bright one.'

'Only harmless fun mate.' invites O'Possum.

'That's right Little Splinta.'

'Harmless! Bloody harmless. Blimey! Never been so ashamed in me life. Then the so called dancer came on. She did a bit of a dance, not much good. Then peeled off her gear.'

'Everything? Straight away?'

'No! Kept a G-string on. But that's all.'

'Was she buxom Little Splinta?'

'They weren't whoppers. A fair size with little suction cups over her nipples and tassels with balls on the ends.'

'Say that again mate.'

'Blimey! Tassels! Tassels with balls on the ends. Next thing she's got her back and shoulders moving and these balls start spinning in circles. 'round and 'round like propellers. Soon hits top speed, straight over to me.'

Splinta dismouns his stool and demonstrates circular motions with shoulders and chest, and bends forward.

'Right in front of me eyes.' Splinta's bug eyes revolve. 'Watching the balls, right up in me face. No bullshit! Must 've been hypnotised. Didn't have a clue she'd dropped the G-string. All I saw were balls whizzing round and round. She put her hands behind me neck, massaging me. Next thing she stood up, pulled me face straight into her….. '

'Snatch!' pronounces O'Possum. 'Tell me Splinta. Tell me this is all bullshit.'

'Ha! Jealous. None of it's bullshit. It's true. Sorry bloody true.'

'What happened then Little Splinta?'

'It gets worse.'

'You mean better.' says O'Possum.

'Better? It only got better for the perverts and sadists. My humiliation just beginning. I grabbed her hands, got 'em off me neck. Bloody hell, she was strong! I tried to bolt. But the bastards behind kept sitting me in the chair. So I escaped straight between her legs. Crawled across the stage. All I could see were drunken, laughing faces. Some idiot screamed "Don't let him escape." Then they grabbed me. I punched one rat fair in the balls.'

Splinta uppercuts to O'Possum's crotch, pulling the punch at the last moment. O'Possum's doesn't move.

'Doubled him up but more mongrels took his place and pinned me on my back. Arms stretched above me head, legs pinned at the ankles.' Splinta pins his hands mid air.

Hazel's fascinated. Pool players impatient for beers add to Splinta's audience.

' Then she sat on me face. Gyrating. Kept them balls spinning.'

'Did she cum on ya?' O'Possum's excitement more urgent and obvious.

'Cum? Thought she was pissing on me.'

'Did ya stick ya tongue in?'

'What? .. 'cause not. Held me breath.'

'Good thinkin' Little Splinta.'

'They ripped off me jeans and undies.'

A pool player says loudly to another. 'Dangler! Ya think the runt's bullshitting?'

'He can't be making this up.' contends O'Possum.

'Who asked you?' Threatens Dangler. Taller, wider than O'Possum. Smothered in tattoos.

'Hazy!' Calls Wizard. 'Get the two gentlemen their beers.'

'Did you here that Dogs?' Exclaims Dangler. 'The old fart called us gentlemen.' The two rufians burst into exaggerated mirth.

Hazy soon arrives with their schooners, they pay and return to the pool table. Wizard beckons with his hand for Splinta to continue.

'Yeah!' Splinta laughs looking toward the pool table. O;Possum places a hand on one of Splint'a shoulders. The Wizard likewise on the other. 'Yeah! .. Arsehole Druggies.'

'Come on Splinta!' Pleads O'Possum.

'We want to hear about ya twenty first.' Wizard adds his support.

' Ok!' Continues Splinta turning back to his mates and Hazy lurking close by. 'Then she leaned back, balls still twirling and put her hands between me legs. Least I could breath again.' Splinta takes in a deep breath, mouth wide open.

'Did ya get it up?'

'What do ya think with all them blokes watchin?'

'What happened?'

'Next thing she turned herself around. Stuck her thing back on me face and put her mouth over me dick.'

'Ya must have got it up then?' O'Possum's taunt fist shaking.

'Not straight away. Most disgusting thing, the two blokes holdin' down my arms. What I saw. Well! If you's don't believe me? I won't blame you's.'

'Tell us. Tell us.' begs O'Possum excited and loud. The pool players shoot him a glance.

'They were biting her on the arse. Not hard, sort of growling at her cheeks. Then kissing and licking her thing and lifting their necks and howling, like dogs to the moon. Did me a favour 'cause she lifted her arse to get more. Gave me breathing space. Two filthy dogs taking turns. Lapping and licking and howling. This far from me eyes.'

Splinta indicates two inches with thumb and first finger. 'No shame. Clowns.'

'Did she keep going down on ya?'

'Yeah!. Eventually got the better of me in front of who knows? Fifty or more cheering and yelling drunken perverted maniacs. One bitch on heat. Worse than dogs.'

'Some twenty first Little Splinta.'

'Splinta! Splinta mate. You're right. By God! I am jealouse.'

'I knew! Knew you'd be jealous. Because you're a DOG.' Again looking toward the pool table. 'Like the DEVIATE DOGS at that pub. Ha!'

'What happened next Little Splinta?' Then Wizard turns to Hazy. 'Make sure that broken pool que is handy. Might need it.'

'Grabbed me jeans. Couldn't find me undies. Got dressed near the bar. The barmaid poured me another schooner. Didn't blink. Crikey! Like being in another world.'

'You wanted her to have a look. Didn't ya?'

'Typical! No way I was going into the toilets with a bare arse. I'm doing up me zipper when over strides the boss "Enjoy ya present?" Punched him fair on the nose. Instant claret.'

'Shit! Ya punched the boss.'

'The bastard who set me up.' Splinta downs his schooner and heads to the toilets.

Dangler and Dogs decide to follow Splinta as Wizard accepts the pool cue from over the bar. 'One at a time you arseholes!' Wizard calls menacingly.

Splinta returns fronting his brother-in-law, who prepares to leave. 'And ya not me best mate. Got it?'

'Not stayin' for the Lovely Lara after that story.' Wizard asks O'Possum.

'Na! Goin' home with champagne from the bottle-O. Bloke might get lucky.' Then back to Splinta 'Who is ya best mate?'

'He's dead.' says Splinta gathering change and tobacco from the bar. 'See you's later.' With a hint of sway the dognapper exits High Noon. The Wizard turns toward the pool players, now involved in an argument between them selves regarding the legality of a shot.

'Who's dead?' Wizard asks O'Possum.

'He means his dad?'

'Oh!'

'Another two? asks Hazy.

'Not for me thanks.' replies O'Possum. 'See you tomorrow Wizard.'

'Another middy?' asks Hazy.

'Why not Hazy? Why not?'

'Do you think Splinta dreamt that story?' asks the barmaid serving The Wizard's middy of beer.

The Wizard sips before answering 'What do you find so hard to believe?'

'What woman would do that sort of thing?'

'I'd hazard a guess and say Little Splinta's boss paid enough to make it worth her while.'

Impatient pool players, wait for schooners again.

'But the way Splinta went on. Sounded like she enjoyed doing it.' Questions Hazy going to the beer taps.

'Made it worth her while. Simple as that. And maybe she did enjoy putting on a show. It takes all types in this world.' Wizard avoids both pool players eyes, focused on him. He spots Harvey and Robbo and wanders over to join them.


	3. No bark! No bite!

Next morning "The Wizard of Wombat" waits, a little inside Serndib's front gate. It's ten o'clock, no sunglasses today. Instead an old Akubra hat borrowed from Jack who rooms next to The Wizard.

Frangipani branches meet above The Wizard's head, the white and pink flowers allude to a tropical setting. Collapsible Sid planted cuttings almost twenty years and two proprietors past. Collapsible Sid's body functions, except when pissed. Only Shakin's been resident longer than Collapsible Sid. Shakin came to Serendib direct from WW2 and never subscribed to the garden.

Serendib's keenest green thumb; Kenny, age thirty nine, liver diagnosed self destruct a decade before. Only on Christmas Day he throws downs one neat scotch before retiring to his room and solitude. Sometimes family come to see Serendib dads on Christmas day, but never Kenny's.

But can Kenny grow roses? Can he what? His favourites roses climb, nurtured from cuttings, trained over fences, walls and down pipes. And over lattice built by Harvey and Robbo. Alas! This year like previous years, no blossoming second blooms. Yellow petals, red petals, white petals, and "Shocking Blues"; kids not seen in fourteen years.

The Wizard and thirty other single, divorced, dispossessed, generally elderly men revelling in alcoholism, reside at Serendib. Harvey and Robbo busily complete handy work, began laid back several days before. They erect lattice against the courtyard's white washed southern brick wall. Old wrought iron chairs, wooden bench and two round garden tables furnish the courtyard. One table, iron, old and sturdy. The other table, plastic, new and unpredictable. Expecting January's blazing sun, the furniture's arranged against the northern courtyard wall.

Lionel, one armed Lionel, wing blown off in Vietnam, carries a watering can, quenching potted plants. Fuschias, Hydrangeas in three colours; light purpley, deep purpley, pink. Mother-In-Law's tongue, a hardy plant, peed on many times in the night. Lionel returns to the tap, refilling many times. Plants must wait several days before another drink.

Sir Bob waits for Jack's morning paper. Jack reads slow. Sir Bob picks up the "Sweet Peas" seeds laying on faded pavers near Harvey and Robbo. He reads the instructions and asks 'Shouldn't these seeds be planted for winter.'

Harvey responds 'Kenny said to plant 'em. Didn't he Robbo?'

'That's what he said.' agrees Robbo in deep, slow monotone.

'But if you read ... '

Harvey and Robbo ignore Sir Bob and continue measuring, sawing and nailing together found strips of wood. Urgency pervades their task because tomorrow is pension day for young and old at Serendib. Rent paid first, then a fortnight's food, cigarettes (roll your own tobacco) secured in rooms. Then schooners pour at High Noon.

Robbo awaits tomorrow. 'It's me birthday tomorrow' he announces in deep, slow monotone. Birthdays on pension day. Beers, beers everywhere.

Robbo reminisces while working, pension day, birthdays and funerals, celebrated at the Rose and Thorn. Alas! Nobody goes to the Rose and Thorn, not any more. The new publican, an ex bureaucrat named Charlie Sea doesn't abide derros. Charlie hates Friday nights because The Wizard, Splinta and O'Possum lead Serendib's inmates in a singalong at the Rose & Thorn. Friday night, the quietist night at High Noon.

Garden fragrance disagrees with Wizard, so waits in the driveway but sees Shakin walking down that way. The Wizard backs under the Frangipani looking in the opposite direction.

'Wom-Wombat! D-Don't ya say Gid-Gid-Day any m-more?' calls Shakin, sunken almond eyes flickering confrontation.

'Got business to attend to.'

Red and purple lines visible at a distance swell on Shakin's pasty angular face. 'Ya-ya mur-murderin' mon-mongrel bas ...'

The old Valiant pulls up, not soon enough. Wizard's brisk getaway shrouds his age.

'Why's old Shakin giving ya the finger?' asks Splinta.

'Silly old bastard's troppo. 'replies Wizard settling on plywood front passenger seat.

Splinta gives Shakin a wave. The WW2 veteran smiles back displaying nicotine blackened teeth.

'Always seems 'armless enough. Come to think of it, haven't seen him 'round for a while.' reflects Splinta. 'What do you mean troppo?'

'Sent in the head. Tropics in New Guinea sent 'em troppo! The stinkin' heat humidity, mosquitoes and malaria, mud up to ya waist, tinea sprouting out of ya arse ...'

'When was he in New Guinea?'

'In the war Little Splinta.'

'Oh! Yeah! My dad was too young to go. His older brother did. Come to think of it, he's strange on the piss. Everyone wonders how his missus put up with him all these years.' ... 'Were you in the war Wiz?'

'Do I look that old Little Splinta?'

'Not as old as Shakin or me uncle. Both appear ready for the grave.' ... 'Haven't seen ya in a hat before' comments Splinta.

'Use to always wear one. Bloke wouldn't feel dressed without a hat.'

'When was that?'

'Back in the forties and the fifties. Everybody wore a hat then.'

'They're back in fashion, 'cause of the sun. Been thinkin' 'bout gettin' one meself.'

'No Little Splinta, wouldn't be the same. The Tivoli's long dead.'

'Tivoli?'

'Different era. Different world! We'ld spend fifteen minutes polishing shoes before going on the town. Anyway! I wear these joggers now. Don't need polishing. Cheap enough! Comfortable too! And these days feel silly in a hat.'

'So why are you wearin' the hat?'

'You've never seen me in a hat before, have ya Little Splinta? Does it make me look different?'

'Yeah! Guess it does. So ya using it to disguise yourself from Nobby?'

'Not Nobby! If he's half, half the fool O'Possum reckons; wouldn't need a disguise. If I ever bumped him again? Just reckon I'm somebody else.'

'Well. Why are you wearin' a bloody hat?'

'I don't want O'Possum to recognise me. Taking no chances. He might give the wizardry away.'

'I know I said ya looked different but I still recognised ya.'

'Yes Little Splinta. You did! But you expected to see me. O'Possum doesn't.'

Wizard now notices the very ordinary canine parked at his feet, gazing back at him.'What sort of dog is this?'

'Some cross. Looks like there's Beagle in him.'

'A mongrel.'

'Na! Mongrels have life in 'em. You know what I reckon? Someone tried creating a new breed. What ever the crossing, crossed out everything you look for in a dog. No bark! No bite. Denied purpose in life. Probably why they, why they desexed him. Been better to put him, put it down.'

'Why nab him?'

'Found it wandering the streets; aimless, pitiful, a disgrace. Took pity on it. Never again. No reward!'

'He's a good little listener. Shame we ain't taking him to Charlie.'

'Why don't we take him to Charlie? Bloody Nobby can't be that dense. Once somebody belts ya with a broom, ya surely don't forget why.'

'We'll see.' Wizard pats Stupid. 'Did ya get this morning's paper?'

'Course! No rewards.'

'Was there any mention of Snaky Adams?'

'Yeah! He got five years.'

'What did he do?'

'Drove off when they tried pinching him for drugs. Ran a red light. The coppers followed him through and collided with a truck. Now they're drivin' wheel chairs. Claims set up by the cops. That's why he drove off.'

'They all say the same, these days.'

Splinta drops off Wizard and Stupid before parking next to a phone box a little further on.


	4. Why kill a wonder dog?

, when Nobby's two older brothers were three and one years old. Next a sister, and after a ten year break, along came unplanned Nobby.

What's distinctive about Nobby's house? A recently erected, metre and half high steel mesh fence protecting the front yard. A fence more commonly seen around swimming pools but well worth the additional expense according to Nobby's mum because now the entire yard is secured against wandering, bogging, fence jumping, flea infested dogs. Advanced Azaleas, Grevillea, Hibiscus and two Gardenias purchased and planted by Nobby's nephew beautify the fence. Perched in the shade on the front step, Nobby smoked and watched the apprentice green keeper's labours and once brought him a cup of tea.

Tall, lean and stooped, Nobby squats on the path, a little inside the front gate. Hands open, six inches apart, wait to spring a trap.

Buzzz buzzzz.

'Come on. ... Come on.' whispers Nobby, relentless summer sun beats down on hatless head, affecting not his concentration.

Buz ... Buz ... Buz ...

'Wrong way ya four engine bomber.' Nobby spotted a blow fly amongst the Petunias bordering the front path. At first, Nobby thought it a large bumble bee, never before he'd seen a blowie outdoors.

Mum warned against fertilising flowers in full bloom but Nobby's not long sprinkled blood and bone amongst the Petunias. There's little else to do, mum's gone shopping and besides, her nose smells nothing since a recent operation. Stench won't give him up but blow flies? If she investigates further, Nobby fears himself knee deep in manure; his own.

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ

'Just another inch.'

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

'Come on. Into my trap.'

'Gidday!'

Fly catcher clutches at his heart, scrambling to stand.

'Sorry little neighbour. Did I scare ya?'

'Scare me? ... Struth! Nearly put me in me grave. Ya shouldn't sneak up on people. Anyway you're not me neighbour. O'Possum O'Grady lives in that 'ouse and old Mother McGaw lives on the other side.'

'Of course! No! I'm not your next-door neighbour. But I do live in the street. Doesn't that make us neighbours? Living in the same neighbourhood, we must be neighbours. I'm Bluey from number 67.' The stranger's hand extends over the front gate.

'Bluey? Ain't blokes called Bluey suppose to have gingery hair? You don't look gingery.'

'Your right there. ... I'm not gingery. I've got blue hair.'

'A bloke with blue 'air. Take off the hat and give us a look.'

'Not today umm, what's your name neighbour?'

'Nobby.'

'Can't take me hat off on a day like this. Instant sunstroke Little Nobby.'

'Yeah! Sure is a scorcher. Feel like a cold drink Bluey?'

Bluey moistens dry lips.

There's a cold water jug in the fridge.'

'You are a gentleman and scholar. ... But I must refuse. Strict Doctors orders. No eating or drinking until after me operation tomorra.'

'Well! What are ya doin' out in this scorchin' heat? Ya should be restin' up.'

'Ya right Little Nobby. But I ... I'm worried and I find a little walk helps sort out me problems.'

'Never been in 'ospital meself. Reckon it must be worryin'. But if ya stay out in this heat.'

'No! It's not the op it's me dog Stupid.'

'Why ya callin' me stupid? How ... How do I know ya, ya even got a dog?'

Bluey points to the pavement. Nobby looks over the fence. Stupid stands panting in Azalea shade.

'I'm sorry Little Nobby, I didn't mean you. My dog's name is. ... Stupid!'

'That's a cruel name.'

'The name he had when I got him. Tried changin' it. But it's the only name he answers.'

'In this heat, ya walkin' 'n worryin' about ya dog's name. Lets face it Bluey, ya not young anymore and ya goin for an operation tomorra.' Nobby's eyes remain fixed on Stupid. 'What sort of dog is he anyway?'

'A very special dog. My problem is, I have nobody mind him for the four days I'll be in hospital.'

'What about a boarding kennel?'

'Too expensive. I'm only a pensioner. I'd rather pay somebody a bit of drinking money if you know what I mean?'

'Drinkin' money? What about money for food?'

'Of course Little Nobby! I will fix you up for both, soon as I'm out of hospital. My pension will be in the bank waiting for me.'

'Yeah! Well it won't be me you'll be fixing up. I live with my mum. Since I was a kid, never allowed to own a dog. Only kid on the block without a dog. Mum calls 'em flea bags and she's allergic to fleas. Very allergic.'

'You never in your whole life owned a dog Little Nobby?'

'Mum says I can get one when she dies or I move out.'

'You've missed one of life's real pleasures Little Nobby. Instead of you doing me a favour, it's me doing you a good turn.'

'Howzat?'

'Stupid's no ordinary dog. Got him from the C.S.I.R.O.'

'Did they call him Stupid?'

'That's right Little Nobby. S-T-U-P-I-D. You knew all along it was an acronym.'

'I did ? But I've never heard of that breed before.'

'Well you're right. Stupid stands for Special Treatment of Unwanted Pests and Insects on Dogs. Pests like ticks, lice and especially fleas won't go near him. And it's not just a matter of 'em jumping on and jumping straight off. Nothing comes within twenty feet of him. The little house I'm renting was infested with cockroaches. Cockies running up walls in broad daylight. Within a week of moving in, they moved out.'

'Pull the other one Bluey.'

'It's a serious matter. Why do you think I'm so worried?'

'If he's such a wonder dog, how come the C.S.I.R.O. sold him to you?'

'They didn't exactly sell him to me.'

'You're a dognapper. O'Possum O'Grady's brother-in-law's a dognapper. I met him once. Only a small bloke but fearless. Not scared of any dog, not even ferocious guard dogs. Not scared of the law either. And he's got real big eyes that look like they've popped. Like insect eyes. You know what? He can see 'round corners.'

Wizard eagerly stores this description. 'I'm no dognapper. No little Nobby but I did steal him. Only because they were going to put him down.'

'Why would they kill a wonder dog?'

'Chemical manufacturers found out about him. Money! Big money changed hands in Canberra and the project was cancelled.'

'But I just saw him scratching. He's full of fleas.'

'No little Nobby. Nothin' to do with fleas. Side effect of the experiment. His skin's very suspect to strong sun light.' Bluey pulls an ointment tube from shirt pocket. 'This fixes 'im. Rub a bit in and he's right.'

'What is it?'

'Old fashion remedy. Lanolin! Like the dog, I'm suspect to strong sunlight. It's all I've ever used.'

'Tell ya what Bluey! I'll go to your house each day, feed and water Stupid, and rub ointment into him, 'till ya get out of hospital.'

'Thanks Little Nobby. That's a very kind offer. But now you know the Stupid's value and the forces wanting him destroyed, you can see I have to say no. I'll think of something.' Bluey walks off slowly. Stupid stays, panting, looking up into Nobby's eyes until pulled along.

'Wait a minute Bluey. I'm no greenie but I've seen documentaries. Chemicals are harmful. The way I see it, every time we kill a little fly with spray, we kill a little bit of ourselves as well.'

'So you agree! This poor harmless little dog could be this planet's saviour.'

'It depends. Can you do anything with him? If you had stolen a pair ...'

'Rescued Little Nobby.'

'Sorry Bluey. Rescued a boy and girl. You could 've bred heaps of wonder dogs.'

'I'm not beaten yet Little Nobby. Since rescuing Stupid, I've mated him with every different dog breed I can.'

'A little dog like that?'

'Don't worry. Stupid does the job, knows he's special. And that's what I'm getting at. The more offspring... The more pups born carrying his special gene. Well! We breed the ones who inherit the special gene and become millionaires Little Nobby.'

'Me?'

'Yes Nobby. And it's not only money. You'll be doing a service, a great service, monumental service for mankind. Protect him from the multi-nationalists for four days. Keep him alive, just four days Little Nobby. You will never regret it.'

'I'll do it Bluey.'

Good on ya mate. What ever you do. ... Don't! Don't tell anybody, not even ya neighbours what Stupid really means. Stay guarded against multi-national chemical hit men. One loose word, they'll fill him full of lead.'

'Scout's honour.'

'Mate him Little Nobby. Mate Stupid with as many bitches you can. His offspring will be your reward.'

'Trust me Bluey.'

'I trust you. You won't let me down Little Nobby.'

Bluey hands Nobby the lead. 'See you in four days Little Nobby.'


	5. The Mating Games Begin

Birgit's long legs closed, tight 'n cold. 'You should bring home milk; imbecile. Our children; remember. Remember our beautiful sons? Drink milk! Not leg-opener.'

Cold, unopened, undisturbed in the fridge, last night's bottle of bubbly.

Half an hour later, Birgit reminds O'Possum that her mother is coming for dinner tonight. 'It's the first I've heard about it.' complains O'Possum.

Birgit contests 'I told you last night. Oh! Pissed again. No memory again?'

'You told me bloody nothin.' claims O'Possum. 'I've already made arrangements to meet Splinta, and have a few beers.'

'You don't remember? Pissed .. Again.' Birgit has her strategy. 'Which is it O'Possum?'

Now this is the tricky bit. She said nothing about the old bat coming tonight but he was slightly drunk and Birgit the house detective where did he got money. If he goes to High Noon all hell will break loose. Lectures from both Birgit and mother-in-law who will stay until he returns home. O'Possum storms out the back door letting it slam loudly. 'Stuff 'em!'

'Pssst.' beckons Nobby from next door.

O'Possum frowns. Why the secrecy? What boring bit of bullshit will the nut case have today? 'Who's that?'

'Ssssh. Come to the fence. It's me. Nobby!'

Bloody who else would it be? Fumes O'Possum within. A forty dollar cunning kick but bloody grounded 'What do ya want Nobby?'

''O'Possum! Keep ya voice down. Come here. Jump the fence. I've got somethin' to show ya, hidden under the house.'

O'Possum grabs two fence palings and pulls himself up and over the meter and a half high side fence. Nobby squats beside the house, gesturing O'Possum be silent. O'Possum squats beside and helps himself to Nobby's cigarettes. This takes Nobby by surprise because O'Possum quit smoking on his wedding day. O'Possum peers under the house. 'Got a light?'

Nobby passes the lighter. 'Not bad! Hey?'

'It's a dog.'

'Sure is. Will ya missus will let him mate with Candy?'

'What? This mutt?'

'Sssh! Don't call him that.'

'Well what else would ya call him?'

'Stupid.'

'If I was a dog Nobby I'd rather be called mutt than stupid. Even as a human I prefer mutt to stupid.'

'Hiz name's Stupid.'

'Why don't you swap names with him Nobby?'

'Why do ya say that?'

'Because you are stupid. When your mum finds out there's a dog under the house she will beat you senseless and throw you both into the street. You forgotten what happened last time?'

'This time's different.'

'You don't remember being belted with a broom?'

Reflex response; Nobby grimaces, hand pats skull. 'Yeah! But it was fleas. Not because of the dog.'

'Look Nobby. Look! The mutt's scratching.'

'His names Stupid.'

'No! No! Your name's Stupid. His name's Mutt. A mutt full of fleas.'

Nobby takes the ointment tube from trouser pocket. 'The poor little fella's suspect to strong sunlight. Sensitive skin.'

'I know who's suspect. Where did you get it from anyway?'

'I'm minding him for somebody.'

'Who?'

'Bluey's his name. Lives down the street a bit.'

'Never seen a gingery men 'round here.'

'This blokes got blue hair.'

'What?' exclaims O'Possum.

'Shhh. .. True.'

'If you say so Nobby.'

'Will you ask ya missus if we can mate them?'

'You want me divorced? Do ya?'

'She can keep one pup.'

'Nobby! Candy's a pure bred Pomeranian. Next time she comes on heat, she's booked to be served by a champion pedigree Pomeranian. The missus is paying top dollar but she'll get a hundred for each pup.'

' 'O'Possum it must be forty degrees. How much heat do they want? We can put 'em together and I won't charge anything.'

'No wonder ya not married.' O'Possum half kneels and slaps his thigh. 'Come here Nobby.' The dog responds going to O'Possum for a pat. 'That's a good boy Nobby.'

Nobby scratches his head. 'But he only answers to Stupid.'

'He wants to swap names with you. From this point, the dog I'll call Nobby and you I call Stupid.'

'That's not funny.'

'Tell you what. Saw Mother McGaw yesterday chase off several mutts. Reckon her bitch is on heat.'

'Mad Alsatian will rip Stupid to pieces.'

'Not when she's on heat Stupid.'

'Stop calling me that.'

'Okay! Sorry Nobby. Your mum and Mother McGaw go to Bingo about two. Don't they?'

Yeah!'

'Give me a yell when they go.'

'O'Possum returns home in good spirits much to Birgit's surprise and annoyance. Usually he broods for hours when out manoeuvred. O'Possum keeps an eye on the clock and Birgit keeps an eye on him.

'What are you looking for?' she asks O'Possum, searching in the fridge.

'Nothing' he replies. 'What's for dinner tonight?'

'I'm defrosting lamb chops.'

'Oh good. Delicious!'

When Nobby's head appears over the side fence, O'Possum signals wait a tick. He soon reappeas with a small parcel then jumps the fence with easre into Nobby's backyard. Both men assess Mother McGaw's Alsatian.

'Will this will work O'Possum. She's easily twice as high as him.'

'True lust has no barriers mate. That crate', points O'Possum. 'Bring it here. He needs a platform.'

Nobby grabs the wooden crate and returns asking 'What 'ave ya got there?'

'Chops! Watch her go for this. See! Quick, jump the fence, I'll pass Stupid to you.'

'Me? Why me?'

'Because string bean your legs are twice as high as mine. Besides! You're the one who wants to breed the little mutt. Hurry Nobby. Over you go.'

The chop disappears and the Alsatian resumes guard duty. 'She's heading straight for me O'Possum.'

'Stay there Nobby. I'll throw another chop.'

'No bigger chops?'

'Shit! She has a big mouth.'

'The teeth O'Possum! The teeth?'

'Hurry Nobby take Stupid. I'll throw another chop.' Nobby accepts Stupid. 'Put him on the ground Nobby.'

'I can't. He's clinging to my shirt. Yoww! His claws are sticking into me skin.'

'Here's the last chop. Better give it to Stupid so he'll let go of you.'

'He doesn't want it. Yow! She nearly took my fingers off.'

'Take your shirt off Nobby. You've got to leave him there.'

'Yowww!' screams Nobby.

'Did she bite you?'

'Yowwwwww!'

'Sure is a savage bitch.'

'Hit her with the crate O'Possum. Throw the crate at her.'

O'Possum smashes the crate down on the Alsatians head. 'Grab my hand. Quick! I'll pull you over.'

'Yowwwwwwww'

'The crate's made her more savage.' reports O'Possum.

'Yowwwwwwwwwwwww'

'O'Possum pulls lanky Nobby back over the fence. 'You're safe now .'

'Pull Stupid off me ... Yowww. Gentle O'Possum. Gent .. ly.'

'I've n

'Never seen a dog tremble like this before.'

'His claws, like little knives in me chest.'

'Where did she bite you?'

'If I didn't turn when I did. She would have bitten off me doodle.'

'Got you on the backside. Did she?'

Nobby holds his backside which feels on fire.

'Got any metho in the house?'

'Yeah. Got some.' says Nobby. 'In the laundry.'

O'Possum heads for the laundry with Stupid close behind. Nobby follows a distant paining last. Nobby enters the laundry as O'Possum uncaps methylated spirits. Stupid looks on.

'What ya gunna do with that?' asks Nobby.

'Put some on ya wounds.'

'You sure metho's the right thing for dog bites?'

'Don't be scarred Nobby. It'll sting but! Guaranteed to kill the germs.'

Nobby drops the back of his jeans.

'Bend over a bit. I'll pour it on. No need to touch ya.'

Nobby bends exposing buttocks. O'Possum grimaces; not expecting a pretty sight but the wounds are severe and so turns his head tipping the bottle.

'Yowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.' screams Nobby standing erect, pulling up trousers, mouth pointing to the ceiling.

'Aghh! Missed a bite. Bend over again.' insists O'Possum.

Stupid looks away.

'Cure's worse than the bloody .. Bloody dog bites.' cries Nobby.

'Bend over Nobby. Otherwise you're liable to get a green arse.'

Horror fills Nobby's eyes. 'I'll get cotton wool from the bathroom.'

'Bugger cotton wool. We gotta get this on quick before germs get into ya blood system. Hurry up and bend over.'

Stupid's attention returns to the humans. Nobby bends over. The little canine cringes.

'Just a little bit.' cries Nobby.

O'Possum takes aim, looks away, wrist turns 180 degrees. A liberal dosage floods the crack of Nobby's arse, spilling over exposed anus, soaking underpants containing scrotum.

Tears stream! Nobby stands no utterance, pulls up jeans. Silence, symptomatic shock. His bum hole's on fire, yet scrotum frozen. Traumatised nervous system bombards conflicting impulses.

'You! You did that on purpose.'

Neurones confused; metho soaks, testicles modify. Alarms ring. A wild swinging punch misses O'Possum. Nobby's right hand punctures the fibro wall. Fresh impulses bombard brain, hand pulls from wall grazed, preparing to throb. Blood builds beneath skin. O'Possum and Stupid back away.

Birgit discovers missing chops and peeps through windows endeavouring to catch the thief. Out the back door Birgit calls loudly her husband's name. She looks over Nobby's side fence, calls again.

O'Possum hears Birgit. 'See ya later mate.'He exits through the front door. Stupid follows but O'Possum locks him back inside. Terrified! Stupid seeks refuge under Nobby's mother's bed.

Nobby dashes out the back door screaming 'See ya later? .. See ya later all right. I'll kill ya. 'He runs to the tap, unwinding hose, frantically shoves the nozzle down jeans front; turns tap on full.

Birgit observes all.

Nobby continues screaming 'I'm going to kill ya.' and transfers hose nozzle to his rear. Water bubbles and swirls in his undies, creating a spa effect. Nobby moans relief, much like a constipated pensioner would only much, much louder.

'Mummy mummy, who's making that horrible noise?' asks Birgit's four year old son, coming down the back stairs.

Birgit runs gathering her child, takes him inside, locking the backdoor behind her.

'Who was making those noises mummy? Was it you?'

'Mummy doesn't make noises like that.'

'You make different noises don't you mummy?'

'Not with me you don't.' accuses O'Possum.

'Where have you been?' demands Birgit.

'Did you miss me?'

'I'll tell you what's missing. Four chops from tonight's dinner. Where are they?'

'Me big strong man. Eat raw meat. Pork missus while kids have afternoon nap.'

Birgit lets the child down saying 'Go and play with your toys.' And directs him toward the lounge room with a gentle push to the back. She turns to a grinning O'Possum. 'Where are the chops?'

'Did you question Candy?'

'Don't accuse Candy?'

'You're accusing me?'

'Candy has never taken food from the bench top.'

'I'm not eating any stinkin' chops a dogs been at.'

'I'm telling you. Candy's not responsible.'

'You and ya mother. Ya can eat meat a dogs be slobbering over. But I refuse too. Cook something else for me and the kids.'

'Kids? You don't give a stuff about kids. Not our two or your bastard daughter. You took the chops. You will miss out.'

'Suits me. Love of my life. I'll grab a hamburger down the road.' O'Possum seizes the advantage making for the front door but hears Birgit cursing and pulling something from the fridge. Time to run.

As O'Possum bolts through the front gate, an award winning bottle of leg-opener, denied righteous destiny, twirls past his head. Bubbly explodes on footpath, froth and foam flow into the gutter.

'I'm warning you O'Possum. Don't come home pissed.'

O'Possum remembers his neighbour thinking 'Better go back and see how he is. But what if Birgit cleans up broken bottle? No chance! She'll stay inside, fuming, foaming and plotting.'

O'Possum lets himself through the backdoor, finds Nobby naked in the bathroom. One leg standing on the floor, the other resting on bath rim. Nobby applies Stupid's lanolin to very tender privates.

'That bitch of a missus of mine. Jeez! Sorry about the accident with the metho Nobby.'

Heart bouncing wild, Nobby grabs at his chest but foot resting, slips into the bath rim. Nobby follows, head smashing into fibro wall above the ceramic tiles. Another fibro panel destroyed.

O'Possum tries to aid but Nobby's hands go for helper's neck.

'Shit mate. Said I'm sorry.' offers O'Possum evading Nobby's lunge, and pushing naked neighbour back into the bath and running a cold shower. 'You better cool down.'

'I'm going to kill you.' screams Nobby attempting another assault but O'Possum pushes him back in.

'I told you whose fault it was. Bloody Birgit. Didn't ya hear her?'

'I'm still going to kill ya.'

'I was only putting a drop on that last bite when she called out for me. Right at the wrong moment. I must have jumped or something. I wouldn't mate. Ya know I wouldn't pull a stunt like that. Not on you. We're mates.'

Nobby, naked and helpless in the bath, both hands covering his doodle, glares.

'We better do something about the fibro? Don't worry mate! I'll give ya a hand. That's what mates are for. Have you cooled down yet?'

No response.

'Where's Stupid?'

'Don't know.'

O'Possum turns off the shower, 'I'll find him while you get dressed.'

'Stupid! Stupid! Calls O'Possum then realises, this dog's name embarrassing or worse. A funny farm holiday. 'Where are ya little doggy?'

Stupid found under Nobby's mother's bed. Maybe a flea or two vacated mutt for mattress. Dog coaxed out, O'Possum pulls back the top sheet and rolls Stupid on the bed. Why not? Sheet pulled over, Stupid travels the entire bed seeking escape.

'Sweet dreams ya old slut.' O'Possum carefully remakes the bed.

Nobby dresses in his bedroom, door closed. O'Possum knocks. Nobby responds 'Piss off.'

'Nobby mate! You know what? We need my brother-in-law's help. You've met Splinta. Haven't ya?'

'Yes! Splinta knows everything about dogs.' considers Nobby. 'Revenge can wait.' ... 'Splinta!' calls Nobby.

'Tell ya what. I'll meet him at the pub. Tee something up for tomorrow. What do ya reckon?'

'Do ya think he will help?'

'I guarantee it. And Nobby mate it was an accident. We'll have a better day tomorrow. Okay?'

O'Possum makes haste to High Noon, eager to relate today's events. At intervals however he halts, doubling up with laughter. People peer through windows, presume he's on drugs. Euphoria dampens at High Noon. No Wizard! No Splinta! No audience.


	6. A Cowboy Fronts The Bar

'Have the boys been in today Hazy?' asks O'Possum, served his first schooner.

'Not today.'

He wanders to the cardies looking for Maggot. Like yesterday, reap Maggot's losses. What? No Maggot? It's after three thirty. Maggot must be crook or something. O'Possum considers his options. Wait? ... Chance five? Yes! Just five dollars in yesterday's winning machine.

A cowboy fronts the bar as O'Possum waits for Hazel. Shit! That's no cowboy. It's Maggot wearing a suede jacket, tassels hanging from each arm. Bloody Buffalo Bill! New western shirt and shoelace tie with complimentary steer's head. New jeans rolled up at the bottoms. Brand new brown leather, elastic sided boots must have set him back at least a hundred. In his right hand, new wide brimmed light bluish felt hat and. ... And clean shaven. What's happened to Maggot's permanent, tramp style, two day growth?

'Is that you Maggot?' asks Hazel.

'Sure is.'

'You better not be sendin' up ..' Hazy points to the movie poster '.. you know who.'

The born again cowboy produces a small colourful bouquet from behind his back, a present for Hazy. 'Should have apologised a few weeks back. Sorry for the incident with .' pointing to the movie poster. ' . you know who.'

O'Possum's schooner lifts to lips. What a day!

'The less said the better. Apology accepted Maggot.'

'Call me Marvin if you want Hazy?'

O'Possum turns away. Face kept straight nobbling Nobby, but this is, much too much.

Hazy accepts the bouquet. 'Thank you Marvin. They are beautiful. I better put them in water before they wilt.'

O'Possum turns to Maggot. 'What's the story with the outfit Maggot? You goin' line dancing or something?'

'Got it in one mate.'

Hazy finds an old pint glass not used anymore; instant vase. 'Line dancing Marvin?' she asks. 'I never considered you the type.'

'The ex and I met at a bush dance. We danced good together. Won a few competitions. Then when the kids came along. We stopped dancing together. Stopped doing much of anything together. Anyway that's in the past now. Give line dancing a shot. Might be good? Might suit you Hazy.'

'Is he comin' on to Hazy or what?' thinks O'Possum. 'She's a good ten years older. More The Wizard's vintage.'

'Marvin! I don't fancy myself wearing a buckskin skirt, high boots, and wiggling my bottom around.'

'You havin' a beer before you go dancin'?' asks O'Possum.

'Might have a couple when I get back.' replies Maggot. 'See you's then.'

O'Possum pushes a five dollar note toward Hazel. 'Five one's please Hazy.'

'Sorry! What did you say?' asks Hazel when Marvin exits High Noon.

'Five ones for the cardies.' As Hazel brings the coins, O'Possum continues. 'What a blow out that Maggot is.'

'Marvin!'

'Marvin! Maggot! What's the difference?'

'The difference is, if he's turning the corner.'

'What corner?'

'Life's corner! Life after a divorce. Unlike them at Serendib. Bitter to the end and determined to stay that way.'

'You're exaggerating Hazy. Mostly good blokes, just prone to the drink. The Wizard for example. He's not bitter.'

'More like the man in the moon. Only ever shows one side, the bright side!'

'You're a cynic.'

'Never a straight answer. Nobody knows anything about him. The dark side will appear maybe sooner than you think. The Wizard will vanish, into thin air, the way he blew in here, from nowhere.'

'Women? Jesus!' growls O'Possum heading to the cardies.

Last night's machine reclaims five dollars. O'Possum buys another schooner, changing ten dollars this time and finds new machine.

The second cardie offers promise but ten dollars disappear. Back to the bar, another schooner, another ten dollars.

'Having no luck?' asks Hazel.

'Bloke's luck's gotta change one day.' mutters O'Possum turning to the card machines.

'Might get worse before it gets better.'Offers Hazy.

What's wrong with her today? Ponders O'Possum. Never seen Hazy so full of free bloody unwanted advice. Something to do with bloody Maggot I bet. Why so down on The Wizard? Thought them half keen on each other.

The third cardie's an absolute gobbler. O'Possum seeks a saviour, spots one, reserves it, skulls his beer then back to the bar. 'Another schooner and ...' He checks his change. Damn! Skint already. '... another five ones please Hazy.'

Cardie four still alive when O'Possum empties schooner four. Shit! Nothing left for another beer. All depends on the card machine but credits dwindle. Go for broke, invest the remaining five credits.

One, two, three kings.

'Just one more king. Another king. Please!. Come on baby.' prays O'Possum. Three majesties held, he hits deal. ... Another king. And yes! Yes! Yes! A joker. Jokers wild. Five kings. Two hundred and fifty credits. Twenty five beautiful dollars.

Double it? No bugger it. Pull out with twenty five dollars. ... Or. Or go for it. Nothin' to loose! My luck's back. Like Hazy said "Might get worse before it gets better." It got worse; now it's better. ... Black! No red! Bugger it! Stick with black.

O'Possum hits black. Red appears, two hundred and fifty credits disappear. Damn! Mongrel of a thing. Still! I went for it. Fifty bucks, would've been magic. Ya gotta go for it. Do the same thing again.

'Bye Hazy. See ya tomorrow.' calls O'Possum, exiting High Noon penniless, yet satisfied he did the right thing. A mile down the road hunger rumbles his stomach. Jeez no bloody dinner; first regretful pangs. Could have cashed twenty five, invested ten. Enough for a few more schooners and a hamburger. Na bugger it. Did the right thing.

A little further down the road the brain makes an involuntary calculation. Four schooners. Four, just four schooners and I went to the pub with forty dollars. Bloody hell! Ten bucks a schooner. Bloke's gotta be mad.


	7. Fruits of Love

Two chubby ladies, both blue rinsed hair, aged late sixties, share a taxi home after a dismal evening's bingo. Mrs McGaw and Nobby's mum share the fare. Nobby lays in bed as mum opens the front door, phone rings. Birgit firmly suggests Nobby's mum come over for a cuppa. As Nobby's mother opens neighbour's front gate another taxi arrives; Birgit's mother is early.

A fresh pot of tea and cream biscuits await Birgit's guests. Three women sit in the dining room, annexed to the lounge room where two children play in scattered, limitless toys. The dining room bright, curtains more appropriate for winter. Children's numerous photographs clutter the walls and revarnished buffet top. A solitary wedding photo half hides behind an envelope containing the electricity account overdue.

First discussion; the weather, then bingo. Eventually Birgit swings the conversation to Nobby.

'He was giving himself an enema in the backyard, with the garden hose.'

Nobby's mother only one number off bingo three times, now comes home to this.

'I can only describe what I witnessed.'

'Why would he need an enema?' asks Nobby's mum gazing into empty cup.

Birgit's mother says to daughter 'You better boil the kettle again.'

Birgit goes to the sink suggesting 'He must have felt unclean.'

'Maybe he has diarrhoea?' Suggests Birgit's mum.

'Guilt.' replies Birgit.

'Guilt?' begs Nobby's mother.

'Psychological guilt?' asks Birgit's mother.

'A visit to a psychiatrist would help.' continues Birgit. 'Unless of course it was a physical thing.'

'What sort of physical thing?' asks Nobby's mum.

'A carrot.'

'You shouldn't suggest any such thing Birgit.' Interjects the accusers mother.

Birgit turns on mother 'Well why was he threatening to murder his own penis? Tell me that. Because he found a. ... A substitute of some kind.'

'He threatened his penis? When?' demands Birgit's mother.

'Before the enema. He was screaming at it, hitting it with the hose nozzle. "I'm going to kill ya." He kept screaming over and over. Then he ... He inserted the hose nozzle into his anus. Stood there! In your back yard with the hose up his arse. Groans, groan his lungs out.'

Nobby's mother weeps. Birgit's mother goes to her.

'God be my witness.' continues Birgit. 'O'Possum denies hear...'

'That's enough Birgit.' commands the complainant's mother, a comforting arm around Nobby's mother's shoulders. 'Make the tea.'

'O'Possum!' responds Nobby's mother wiping her eyes. 'O'Possum was here when it happened?'

'Well!' replies Birgit from the sink. 'Not exactly here. He'd disappeared. Strangest thing! So did four chops. ...'

'Chops?'

'Four raw chops. Only half thawed. God knows what he did with them. I went to your fence, looking for O'Possum and the chops. When I came back inside, O'Possum was here. Wouldn't say where he'd been.'

'I'll go now.' Nobby's mother leaves the table.

Birgit turns to Nobby's mum. 'Take him to psychiatrist before he gets worse. I don't want my children exposed to ... To whatever sickness he's got.'

Nobby laying in bed can explain the bathroom damage. The laundry? Nothing! Nothing half believable. So he covered the hole, sticky taped a magazine page over it. Mum never throws out magazines and has a mountainous collection. She enjoys Rock Hudson movies, "Pillow Talk" her favourite, saw it at the pictures when it first came out. She told Nobby so as they watched it together on television. Nobby doesn't read very well and didn't bother with the article positioned next to the full page, smiling, debonair Hudson. The headline went "GAYS JILT CONDOMS FOR WITHDRAWAL METHOD".

'I'm in bed.' responds Nobby when mum calls.

'What's wrong? Are you sick?' mum asks entering son's bedroom.

'Got a headache mum. Had an accident, having a shower. Slipped and banged me head against the wall. Broke the fibro. I'll be better tomorrow. O'Possum said he'll give me a hand fixing it.'

'O'Possum said that?'

'Sure did! Didn't even have to ask him.'

'Really! Did you take onme or two aspirin?'

'No! I didn't.'

'I better get you two.'

On the way to the kitchen she surveys the bathroom, concluding 'O'Possum surprised Nobby having a shower. Nobby struggled but. But! Couldn't fight off .. the sodomiser.'

Mum takes aspirin to son. 'There you are Nobby. I saw the damage. The old bath is dangerous. I'll get a price on a new, safer one. You rest. Try and get a little sleep.'

Nobby's mum walks through the laundry and out back to investigate. A pair of eyes, Stupid's eyes watch from deep under the house, tied to a brick pillar. Sodden area surveyed, back through the laundry, calf itches, impulsive scratching makes her stop. Eyes meet fallen idol smiling. No! Sneering at her. 'Oh my God!'

Itch forgotten, inspect refrigerator vegetable compartment, all carrots appear accountable. She counts carrots, writes "4 C" on the calendar, then inspects the tidy bin, no peelings. That filthy, filthy article in magazine mistakenly purchased and wary of ever buying again. Explicit debauchery, "FRUIT'S OF LOVE". Sickening! Why didn't she throw the magazine in the rubbish where it belonged? Certainly no decent recipes.

O'Possum reverberates in her thoughts as she searches through the wheelie bin. No carrots, peelings or chops. No clues here. Nobby's mum finds herself knocking on Birgit's door. Birgit answers, offering another cuppa.

'No thank you tell me. Where was O'Possum when Nobby? ... When my son was ? ...'

'Giving himself an enema?' answers Birgit, stepping outside and pulling the front door nearly closed.

'Where was O'Possum?'

'I don't know. He disappeared! Told you already, felt he was with Nobby.'

'What made you think that?'

'Where else could he be? Came inside and there is O'Possum, back inside the house. I don't know. I was calling him when I saw Nobby.'

'Tell your husband. Never! Never set foot in my house or yard ever again. I'll have him arrested. That's if I don't deal with him myself. If he's used frozen chops to rape my son? God be my witness. Tell him Birgit. And don't worry about my son needing a psychiatrist. Get your husband to one. How you put up with him? Him and his sodomising penis. Get rid of him. For your kids sake.'

Elated! Birgit closes her front door.

'Who was at the door dear?' asks mum.

'Nobby's mum. Thanked me for telling her what happened. Poor old dear! Apologised on her dopey son's behalf. What can you say?'

Mum gently knocks before asking. 'Nobby! Are you still awake?'

'Yeah mum. I'm feeling a bit better. I might get up and watch telly with ya.'

'No son. Rest is best for a head injury. I want to ask you something.'

'Ahhh! What mum?'

'Was O'Possum in this house today.'

'Umm. Yes. He saw the broken fibro. Said he'd help fix it.'

'Was he acting queer or anything?'

'You know what he's like. No different.'

'Did he have frozen chops with him?'

Nobby rubs his forehead. 'The aspirin must be wearing off. Can you get me more?'

This time, two lots, she swallows asprin in the kitchen before attending Nobby. It's time to lie down.

Changed into nightieand asking herself, 'What is happening to this world?' Bed clothes pulled back, she eases between comforting sheets.

Eyes closed, she recalls two ladies, regulars at her bingo table. Both have homosexual sons. One wears women's clothing and came to bingo with mum. God perish the thought. Why do so many men want to be women? Eyes grow heavy with exhaustion until suddenly awakening with a start. She dreamt discovering Nobby and O'Possum together in bed. Surrounded by fruit and veges. Wicked, shameless, insatiable lovers! She shivers.


	8. Two Rottweilers

'You told him you've got blue hair, and he believed ya?' responds Splinta with delight. The Wizard seizes the opportunity to persuade Splinta that it's time to replace the old Valiant's seats. Off to a wrecker they go.

'Very rare. Don't like ya chances.' advises the wrecker. The trip, not in vain. Splinta eyes the wrecker's guard dogs, two Rottweilers.

The Wizard and Splinta sit at the dognapper's kitchen table, reshaping two greyhound muzzles for tonight's work. This being about the time O'Possum enters High Noon.

Wizard scratches behind his ear. 'Little Splinta. I'm telling you what he told me. They won't take food from strangers. The male's desexed and can't be drawn off by a bitch on heat. And. And they are both trained to kill. We won't get close enough to put these muzzles over their huge heads.' Wizard reaches across Formica top table for cigarettes.

'The reason I told ya to get him talking was to get their names. All the information needed.' Splinta exchanges the muzzle he works on for rollys.

'Soldier. What a bloody name for a dog. Soldier! You saw what happened when the wrecker yelled "Charge". '

'Well he won't be there to yell anything Wiz. Stay calm. What was the bitche's name? She's the one we need to watch.'

'Matilda.'

'Yeah! Matilda. You'll come a waltzing Matilda with me.' sings Splinta. 'I reckon we'll get four, even five hundred for her. Sell her easy. Biggest Rocky bitch I've ever seen; easy 60 kilos. First mug we meet with money will buy her for sure.'

'What about Soldier? '

'Should get two, or even three hundred for him. Some mug'll buy him.'

'Mug? You mean lunatic Little Splinta. Only a lunatic would want a dog that rips bumper bars from cars with its bare teeth?'

'It was only plastic but. Yeah!' Splinta considers his mates argument. 'Compared to the bitch he's small, less than 50 kilos; and a good party trick. You're right Wiz. Get five for him too. Just need to meet a lunatic. And they cost a fortune to feed? Lunatics everywhere! No worries!'

'Why not wait for the wrecker's reward notice?'

'No! No way Wiz. He won't advertise, not unless he wants to shoot them dead. Actually we're doin' him a favour. Thinks his yard's safe when it's not. See that old Rolls under the tarp?'

'No!'

'I snooped while you were quizzing. He thinks the Rolls is safe when it's not. False security. And it costs a fortune to maintain them Rockys. And if they ever get loose and bite somebody, the wrecker will be sued for everything he's got.'

'If they live to sue?'

'Wiz? If you're feeling guilty 'bout relieving the wrecker of his dogs.'

'Who mentioned guilt?'

'What we can do is leave a couple of replacements.' suggests Splinta going to kitchen window, looking past the cafe curtains. 'What would suit a wrecker? There's a Silky Terrier. Yeah! How's that sound Wiz?' ...

No reply.

'And a Chihuahua. Both breeds, good ratters. I bet that yard's full of vermin. And yap! If anybody comes near the yard they'll be driven off by the racket.'

'What about O'Possum?' asks Wizard staring into coffee mug, wishing it a beer. 'He'll be waiting for us. Should have a couple with him. Besides Little Splinta. He'll have news about Stupid and the moron.'

'I rang mum while you unloaded that useless mutt. ...' Splinta smiles still looking through the window, thinking _Yes! Stupid's finally gone._ '... She's goin' to O'Possum's tonight for dinner...' _The most witless mutt, ever lived._ '... Birgit will ground O'Possum for sure. He'll be cornered.' Splinta laughs 'He .. he .. he. I don't feel sorry either. I warned him not to get involved with her.'

'Ya own sister? Why not?'

'She's bad music.'

'How did they get together?'

'We had the old man's wake at the Rose & Thorn. Mum made Birgit come along. Anyway O'Possum, who made an excuse not to go to the service, lobs at the wake and says to me "Mate! Look at the pins on that bit of gear standing by herself. Bloke's gotta get between them. Gotta mate. Wonder who she is?" Well I told him she's my sister and if you've got any brains keep well clear.'

Splinta tops up the kettle, switches it on. 'The idiot thought I was trying to protect me sister. I was trying to protect him. He got the shits with me, introduced himself to Birgit. Ya want another coffee?'

'Coffee Little Splinta? I'm finished with coffee for today.'

'Tongue a bit dry; beer old mate?' ... 'Don't worry Wiz. I'll grab some coldies before we go to the wrecker's.'

'Can ya get some now?'

Splinta sees his mate's miserable look. 'Tell ya what? Finish the muzzles. I'll go to the bottle-O.'

When Splinta's old Valiant returns, Wizard waits in the driveway, cigarette in mouth.

'How'd ya go with the muzzles?'

'All done Little Splinta.'

Splinta opens the boot. Wizard wets his lips. Stubbies, two cartons and a cheap scotch. 'We havin' a little party Little Splinta?'

'Ya might say that.' Splinta lifts the top carton.

Wizard's head lobs into boot, hands clasping the remaining carton but Splinta says 'Leave that one there.' Hands grab for the cheap scotch. 'Leave that as well. Just close the boot please mate.' Boot slams shut.

Carton rested on sink, The Wizard's hands grapple and rip at cardboard, a six-pack swiftly emerges. Wizard settles at kitchen table. Splinta places the remaining stubbies in the fridge before joining his mate.

'Aaargh.' Splinta savours the first mouthful, looks across at The Wizard finishing his first stubby.

'Slow down Wiz. Plenty there.'

But The Wizard cracks second stubby before Splinta finishes a second sip. 'No wonder you didn't bother putting them in the fridge.'

Beer washes dryness and anxiety from Wizard's mouth, cigarette lit, he relaxes. 'Nobby said something interesting about you.'

'Good God! Tell me.'

'Says you can see 'round corners.'

'What?'

'Said your bug eyes can see 'round corners.'

'Sounds like O'Possum's bullshit.'

'You're a bit down on our drinkin' mate. Aren't ya?'

Splinta draws long on a rolly before smoke escapes slowly. 'He can be a pain. ... Ahhh! Bloke should be more tolerant.'

'How do you know him? School?'

'School! Crickey! O'Possum went to boarding school. I went to Truant Bloody High.'

'O'Possum's educated?'

'Complete waste of money. When he turned sixteen, mother let him leave school. His first job; Mr Executive at the family factory. My first job too. ... That's how I met him.'

'And you've been mates ever since Little Splinta.'

'Mates! Blimey! The worst thing I ever did? Saved his life. Bloody saved the mongrel's life. Mostly stuck with him ever since.'

'Really! Saved his life Little Splinta?'

Splinta's little head shakes ruefully. 'Well he strutted, paraded himself 'round Daddy's factory dressed in a suit, giving orders to blokes who'd been working there for years. A complete impostor, upsetting everybody. What use to shit me and the others most. Bloody hell! He'd appear from nowhere. Then tell ya to do what you were just about to do; irritating shit, upsetting everybody.

Same time, a girl working there, only fifteen, left for no apparent reason. We found out he'd been pantsing her and got her up the duff. Dropped her like a bag of shit. The old bloke paid her off.'

'Like father like son?' asks Wizard.

'A pair of bloody selfish so and so's. I'd had enough. Didn't care if they gave me the sack. So what I did, I got a big bucket of food colouring ready ...'

'What sort of factory was it?'

'Food. So I ...'

'What sort of food?'

'Sweets, candy, biscuits, sort of shit I don't eat. Any more questions? ... I hid on the top level waiting for O'Possum to walk underneath. Saw him coming, kept hidden, waited and waited. Dill didn't arrive. This is the painful part. I gets curious and climbs down to the second level where he should be. Mind you, a real noisy place, machinery everywhere. So I walked along wonderin' where he got too. Blimey! What made me do it; who knows? I looked in the powdered milk silo, saw a hand and suit cuff slowly disappearing. Found a long piece of timber.'

'Quick thinking Little Splinta.'

'Too bloody quick! Got back to the silo, he'd completely disappeared. I shoved the timber where I last saw him. Screaming me lungs out for help, I pushed and prodded the timber around. Finally felt a bump. Kept prodding at the bump. Suddenly this bloody huge weight comes onto the timber, nearly pulled me bloody in. Had to hang on! Suddenly out from the powder came a hand followed by another, slowly pulling up 'till finally the head appeared. I kept screaming for help. Nobody came. Just his head, he didn't have the energy to climb further. His head spewing, spluttering, spitting and coughing shit from its lungs. Eventually some help. Tell ya what? I was cactus. Couldn't move me arms for three days.'

'How in hell did he fall in a silo?'

'Didn't fall. Pushed! I wasn't the only one waiting. Another bloke hidden, pushed him in.'

'Shit! He did upset the wrong people.'

'Funny thing Wiz? O'Possum never blabbed. Said he looked in the silo to see how empty it was, lost his footing and fell. You can't pick people. No way!'

'Plenty races through ya head as ya look at ya own death. .. What happened to the gold digger?'

'Who?'

'The pregnant fifteen year old.'

'What do ya mean gold digger? She was a kid Wiz. Conned into openin' her legs by an impostor.'

'Did she end up having his kid?'

'Yeah! A girl and to top things off, married the bloke who pushed O'Possum into the silo.'

'Don't suppose O'Possum ever saw his little offspring.'

'Use to! The bloke who tried murderin' him, let O'Possum visit, as long as he didn't let on he was dad. But she pissed that bloke off, got another one, said he'd kill O'Possum if he ever came near 'em again. And now O'Possum pays fifty dollars maintenance each fortnight. One of the reasons he's so broke.'

'But O'Possum's only on the dole?'

'Guilt money.' replies Splinta, first stubby empty, going to the fridge. 'You want one of these cold ones?'

'Yeah Little Splinta.'

'Well pass me those before they boil.'

Splinta sits, Wizard asks 'What happened after you saved our mate?'

'O'Possum never came back to the factory. Suited me, I didn't need any words of gratitude. Next thing the banks moved in and closed the factory. I got my wages but no holiday pay, six weeks owed to me. Guess who got first bite of the cherry? Taxation! Secondthe banks. The government reckoning; O'Possum's arsehole dad drank and gambled the employee's money but not taxation's.'

Splinta blows a smoke ring. Both men's eyes follow it to the ceiling.

'Didn't take me long to get another job, with a builder. The one I told you's about. Worked with him for eleven years. He went bust too. Caught again. Only this time I lost more, didn't get a bean of long service. And this time 'round there's a recession. Couldn't get another job. Had to give up me little apartment nice 'n close to the Rose & Thorn and moved back home for a spell.'

'What was O'Possum doing?'

He went into real estate. Loved wearing a suit. You haven't seen him in a suit have ya? He brushes up real big and got the gift of the gab. Began his own real estate business same time as the big recession; the arse fell out of everything. Especially real estate. Sister Cecilia bailed him out. Secured the loan against his share of the house when the old girl died.'

'An inheritance?'

'The old girl kicked on quite a few years after the old bloke drank himself to an early grave; the factory his haunting memory. She never let him touch, deeds to the house, all in her name.'

'Why didn't O'Possum go bankrupt?'

'Full of .. Useless pride! Didn't want to dud everybody like his old man did. And now. .. Now he's got no pride what-so-ever. The idiot didn't tell Birgit about the loan. So instead of a small fortune they received enough to buy an ex-commission cottage.'

'Did it upset ya sister?'

'What do ya reckon? O'Possum! Ha ha ha. Her ticket out of the suburbs. And wasn't she dirty on the sister-in-law. Called her everything filthy thing imaginable at the Christening. And after Cecilia bought a real expensive gift. Livened up the party. I can tell ya.'

'Ya moved back home?'

'Yeah! ... Moved back. Dad wasting away in bed with cancer. Soon as Dad died, I moved out. Took to dognapping to support myself.'

'Why didn't ya go on the dole like everybody else?'

'Na! Seen what happens to others. Blokes I'd been to school with, been on it for years with no intention of getting off.'

'So if O'Possum went into real estate, how did ya ...?'

'How he creeped back into me life? Out of the blue, came into the Rose & Thorn, one evening. Dressed up in a suit, handing out business cards. The old man and me, met after work and shared a few schooners. The big businessman shouted us schooners all night. Bloody hell! Haven't I repaid those beers?'

'And he's never worked since?'

'A few jobs; doesn't last long. Lost it! Lost his ... Lost what it takes to succeed. Ambition! Gone! Completely gone along with his pride.' declares Splinta, second stubby finished. 'Must attend to the mutts. You relax Wiz.'

The Wizard asks 'Saving O'Possum's life. You really regret it.'

'Stuffed if I know what to think.' answers Splinta, opening the back door, valium in hand.

Wizard assails another stubby, the dognapper goes about tasks peculiar to that profession. Splinta returns, cracks another stubby then opens a kitchen cupboard and discovers heavy bolt cutters.

'Know how to use these Wiz?'

'Yeah! Worked with them before.'

'I'll scrounge 'round for the other gear.' Splinta swigs his stubby, exiting through the back door. He soon returns with a four feet length of galvanised two inch pipe and two metal dishes. Found roll of thin metal wire and pliers from sink drawer where you expect to find tea towels; complete tonight's dognapping equipment.

'Bloody hot Wiz. Hope it cools down tonight.' comments Splinta finishing his stubby before taking another two from the fridge.

Wizard surveys apparatus on kitchen table. Splinta disappears into the hallway, soon reappearing with a hammer and nail jar.

'Gotta knock holes in these dishes so we can tie wire to them. Better do it on the back step. Where's ya beer?'

Task accomplished, they return to the kitchen table. Splinta rolls a smoke. Wizard offers a fresh stubby. Splinta says 'Better make this one me last. You can have a few more.'

' Little Splinta you drank quite a few beers quickly last night.'

' One week no beer! Yeah! Guilty as charged! Thirsty Wiz, incredible dry.'

'You know Little Mate, the tattoo pool players wanted a piece of you? Wanted to follow you into the toilets.'

' I was waiting! Waitin' for 'em.'

'Really?'

'There's a piece of lead pipe in a cistern, check it regular. Make sure it's still there. Maybe got there initials on it. Smallest bloke on many a building site, bring on the cowards. I learn't the hard way. First blow over the head, guess where the next shot goes .. ha ha!'

Wombat grimaces, his arse involuntarily stirring on seat.

'They want to hospitalise me Wiz, return the favour; return it first!'

'Don't suppose ya gonna tell me what the equipment's for.' Asks The Wizard, pointing to boltcutters, pipe, wire and metal dishes.

'Not much point Wiz. Only have to explain again tonight.'


	9. Say Stupid Mummy

'You see more of my son than you do my daughter. Why didn't you marry him?' asks O'Possum's mother-in-law across the dinner table. Birgit smirks as she sets the cutlery.

'Who says so? ' O'Possum demands glaring at Birgit.

'When you get tied up with me brother and some so called Wizard who I've never met. You're lucky to get home before midnight.' Retorts Birgit.

'Only night I'm home late is Friday. After the singalong.'

'Bullshit! You're always late.'

'Your daughter believes her own lies.'

'Stupid!' hisses Birgit.

O'Possum laughs, picking imaginary fleas from himself, flicking them at Birgit.

'See mother? See how stupid he is?'

O'Possum pants like a dog with paws beside its face.

'Daddy's funny mummy.' The four year old son claps daddy's dog imitation. 'Say stupid again mummy.'

'Go and play! I'm getting dinner ready.'

'One more mummy. Say stupid to daddy.'

'He's not funny. He is stupid.'

O'Possum gets down on all fours, barking at his son. The boy mounts daddy, they take off to the lounge room.

'Say stupid mummy. Say it.' The boy calls back. Birgit ignores him.

O'Possum plays with both boys on the lounge room floor, gladly escaping the inquisition until he hears Birgit's dreaded request. 'Would you mind making the gravy mother?'

'Of course I'll make it.'

O'Possum rues ever complaining to Birgit about her mother's gravy. A thick, tasteless abomination.

Dinner soon served. 'What's wrong with the gravy?' asks Birgit.

O'Possum meticulously removes gravy from his one chop.

'It tastes like shit.'

'Daddy said a rude word.'

Splinta refuses her gravy too. Birgit's mother hastily changes the conversation. 'Have you heard from Cecilia lately?'

'No! Nothing.' Birgit replies casually but O'Possum catches an admonishing look from daughter to mother.

'Cecilia my sister? You've been talkin' to her?' demands O'Possum.

'She sent the boys Christmas gifts. I did the polite thing. Rang her and thanked her. That's all.'

'What gifts?'

'You didn't tell O'Possum about the gold chains?'

'He doesn't give a stuff about Christmas or his sister. Why should I bother?' scoffs Birgit. 'Besides!' voice raised. 'Anything of value. He'd hock or sell to give himself precious drinking money.'

'What did I ever hock?'

'I want my children to have some nice things.' pleads Birgit. 'That's all.'

'But she's the one, called Cecilia every filthy thing under the sun, ordered her from the house. You heard her. The whole street must have. Said never, ever have anything to do with her. I can't win with you Birgit.'

'You can't win with me or anybody else. You're a looser. Pisspot looser. And don't think I'm putting up with it much longer.'

'Birgit!' demands her mother. 'Be reasonable. It was you who called her a thieving slut.'

'Are you taking sides with the idiot?' snarls daughter.

'All I'm trying to ask is why? Why keep it secret? Cecilia simply gave the children Christmas gifts?'

'I told you already.' shouts Birgit, agitated finger pointing at O'Possum.

'Don't bother.' advises O'Possum. 'I told you she believes her own lies. And another thing. She doesn't want me to accomplish anything because then she'd have nobody to pour her venom into.'

'What's come over you Birgit? Why the hysterics? You've got a nice home, healthy intelligent child ...'

'And a pathetic pisspot father. Both the children and I will be better off without him.'

'Say stupid again mummy. Make daddy funny again.'

'Shut your mouth Birgit! This is no way to speak in front of children. They are his children.'

Mother-in-law siding with him! O'Possum's astonished.

Birgit strides to the sink, rinses her plate, everything consumed except gravy. Storming back to the table, hands on hips, she fronts mother. 'Don't ever. Ever tell me to shut my mouth again.'

'Say stupid mummy. Please mummy!'


	10. Soldier Invited Inside for a Beer

'Could be in for a storm.' Remarks a relaxed front passenger, his feet straddling an "Esky" containing eleven coldies and one in hand. Splinta suggested leaving some beers at home but The Wizard wouldn't be in that. Two small dogs lie on the back floor, only slightly sedated. Splinta wants them wide awake next morning, when greeting a new master.

'Yeah! There's a bit of lightning over to the west. Hope it holds off for a bit.'

Splinta's curly hair blows wildly; the old Valiant's quarter vents wide open, every window wound down, easing night air's thick humidity. If the temperature's dropped since sunset, nobody's noticed

'Ever been finger printed?' asks Splinta, backing the old Valiant to the wrecker's padlocked wire mesh gates.

'No!'

'Good! If we're disturbed drop everything and jump in the car. Better leave ya door open in case we need a quick get away.'

Boot unlocked, keys back in ignition. Two guard dogs watch every move dognappers make.

'Thought they'd be barking their heads off.' comments The Wizard.

'Intelligent breed these. Can't rip us apart if they scare us away.' says Splinta handing bolt cutters to assistant. 'Cut along both gates, near the ground, wide enough to shove the dishes through.' Splinta ties wire through holes in dishes.

'Okay!' say Splinta, exchanging galvanised pipe for bolt cutters. He chops holes in wire mesh, directly above cuts below. Bolt cutters go back into boot. 'Stick the pipe through the hole. Fits okay? Good! Now when I stick the dish through. Push the pipe into it. Secure it to the ground. Ready?'

'Piss off.' hisses Splinta. Soldier tries stealing the dish entering his domain. Shove the pipe down. Hit him on the head Wiz. ... Pull it up. Pull it up before he pisses of with it.' Splinta tries with the dish again as Soldier goes for the pipe. 'Stick the pipe into the dish Wiz. Come on! Quick!'

'Wooooooolf'. Matilda charges gates, letting loose a solitary monstrous bark, five octaves below a bass. Gates hold but both men hear them groan.

'Hang on. Hang onto the pipe.'

Soldier tries capturing the pipe. Matilda's front paws press inches from Wizard's face. Gate hinges creak and moan. Wire mesh strains. Matilda's barking incessantly. The Wizard desperately grips pipe pressed into dish which Splinta quickly ties.

Dish secured, Splinta hurriedly rips cardboard, plastic, unscrews a top and pours beer down galvanised pipe. Another stubby quickly opened then another, poured down pipe into dish. The dish all but flips, Soldier's massive paws take one position then another grappling with the pipe.

'Wiz. Pull the pipe out.'

The pipe goes horizontal, Soldier locks on.

'Help Little Splinta. Help!' Both men strain. Every hand and arm muscle, every sinew stretches, flexes. Perspiration covers the pipe, hands slip, adjust grip. Soldier's jaws lock, teeth penetrate steel. He's winning the tug-o-war.

'We need the pipe. Don't let him take it Wiz.'

'Charge!' yells The Wizard.

Grip releases, Soldier runs off. Two dognappers fall backwards into the old Valiant's boot. Bolts snap in the darkness, Soldier pulls free a bumper bar. Matilda ceases barking, awaiting the next move.

'Better grab a couple of beers Wiz.'

Wizard returns with two cold stubbies, one already opened and partaken. 'What happens now?'

'We wait mate. I've yet to see a dog that doesn't enjoy beer.'

'You're not wasting a carton on two mutts are you?'

'Consider it an investment.'

Soldier parades proudly before two men, bumper bar in mouth. Splinta stands in the boot, cuts another opening high in the mesh then inserts the pipe. When Soldier parades beneath, Splinta pours beer that falls on Soldier's head. 'They haven't got a taste for it yet.' says Splinta.

Matilda sniffs beer in the metal dish. She walks away. Splinta pours more beer on Soldier's head. Soldier looks up, investigating. Splinta pours more, it cascades onto Soldier's nose and muzzle. Soldier drops the bumper bar, licks his mouth, both sides and awaits another amber shower. Splinta accommodates. Soldier's slab like tongue works left then right savouring each tasty drop.

'Grab another stubby Wiz. A warm one please mate. ... Open it! Pour the lot. Give him a good shower.'

'Don't make me do it. Please Little Splinta.'

'It's an investment Wiz. We get these two pissed and we'll be rolling in cartons.'

Splinta holds the pipe steady, Wizard pours. Soldier's tongue laps and slurps. The shower stops, Soldier's head lowers into the metal dish, tongue now fervent, he's got the taste.

'Good Soldier!' says Splinta.

Wizard opens another warm stubby.

'Hang on a tick Wiz. .. Make him wait. Make him desperate for more.'

'Like lady's legs Little Splinta.'

'What do ya mean?'

'Kept closed 'till ya desperate.'

'Never thought 'bout it that way. Mainly 'cause I've never had a root.'

'With a bit of luck a certain librarian will steal your cherry after the singalong.'

Splinta laughs. 'Is she blind Wiz? Or so ugly we'll be exchanging cherries?'

'No little mate. She's a good sort.'

Curious, Matilda casually lumbers to Soldier. Tongue swipes his wet muzzle. Another swipe. Soldier enjoys unexpected attention.

'Stubbys away.' Splinta smells success. The Wizard pours into the dish. 'And anotheree. ... Keep 'em coming.'

Matilda gets the taste, her affections dissolve. She nudges Soldier away from the dish. His tongue soon returns but retreats from a deep, intimidating, guttural growl.

'Here hold the pipe and keep pouring Wiz. I'll organise the other dish for the out gunned Soldier.'

Splinta pushes through the second metal dish but Soldier wants to play with it. 'Has she got enough to last awhile?'

'You reckon they cost a fortune to feed. No way you'd keep the grog up to 'em.'

'Quick the pipe! Over here! ... Stick it in the dish when I push it through. Pour beer as you do it. Doesn't matter if some lands on the ground. Our Soldier's not fussy.'

Wizard travels between amber troughs, no time for a drink himself. Splinta opens stubbies.

'How many left Little Splinta?'

'Down to a dozen. Time to give 'em a rest while we have a beer.'

Two dognappers suck leisurely on coldies. Rottweilers look up with expressions so pathetic that Wizard shouts each dog a generous drop.

'Fellow drunks already. It's going to be some party.' suggests Splinta uncapping the whiskey.

'Not the whiskey too?'

'Never get 'em pissed on beer. They already drank half a carton, not even a hic cup. Mix it with the beer of course.'

'Should give 'em chasers. Tastes better that way.'

'Good thinkin' Wiz. Matilda first.'

Wizard steadies the pipe, Matilda gets a shot of cheap domestic whiskey. It makes her back away. Half a stubby soon follows. Insatiable tongue rattles the dish.

Soldier hesitates briefly at the whiskey. 'Good boy Soldier.' encourages Splinta. 'And now for your chaser.'

Back to Matilda. 'Might be better to mix hers 'till she gets the taste.'

As Splinta pours whiskey, his assistant gently pours beer. Such precision. No wastage. Can not afford too. Splinta underestimated the grog supply.

'We better go sparingly with Soldier. He'll be okay. It's Matilda we want legless.'

'But if she's legless how do we get her into the car?'

'I saw a hand operated fork lift this morning. Just hope the wrecker didn't move it.'

Matilda's face flops into dish. Splinta grabs bolt cutters and chops through chain securing both gates. He cuts wires from metal dishes, disposes with bolt cutters, grabs a muzzle and lead from the boot.

'Good boy. Gooooood Soldier.' says Splinta opening gates and slipping a lead on unconcerned Soldier's collar. 'Come on Soldier. Come on boy. Coming for a ride in the car?' Soldier accepts the invitation; dish now completely dry.

Wizard throws pipe into boot, discovers himself totally relaxed when Splinta hands him Soldier's lead.

'Let him sniff the back of ya wrist.' instructs Splinta trying to fit a muzzle.

'What does that do?'

'Lets the dog sniff you for fear. No fear! No worries.'

'Oh! ... Muzzle won't fit?' asks Wizard. 'He'll be right, anyway.'

'Whatever you reckon Wiz. Sit him in the back. Then come and give us a hand.'

Wizard promises Soldier another beer when they get home, Soldier jumps eagerly into the car and placidly sniffs two dogs on the floor. Wizard thinks 'This is a good dog, turned lunatic by an idiot.'

Splinta pushes found hand operated fork lift to Matilda, lowers the platform to minimal height. 'Time for the other two dogs Wiz.'

Wizard brings the Chihuahua then returns for the Terrier. When he arrives with the Terrier, Splinta's swapping Matilda's name tag with the Chihuahua. 'Grab Soldier's tag mate.'

Metal dishes go into boot. The scene clean except for Matilda. Splinta lays a blanket in the boot.

'Nice 'n cosy for her Little Splinta?'

'No Wiz. Need the blanket to tip her out.'

Dognappers roll Matilda onto fork lift, push to the boot, drop her in. 'Grab yourself another stubby Wiz. I'll get rid of the fork lift.'

Brilliant lightning chains; greens, purples and white, flicker and dazzle the night sky as Splinta backs the old Valiant to a large gum tree standing inside his back fence. In stinging rain Matilda's tipped from the boot and chained to gum tree. Soldier invited inside for a beer.

'You better camp in the spare room tonight.' suggests Splinta.

'Yeah! Good thinking Little Splinta. The weather's shithouse.'


	11. Check the use-by-date

O'Possum sleeps alone in a single bed, sharing the front bedroom with four year old son. Actually O'Possum sleeps in four year old's bed, with inner spring mattress that cost quite a bit. Birgit hoped it would do the elder son for many years to come. The four year now old sleeps in his previous bed. A smaller bed with foam mattress, passed down to his two year old brother who still night wets. Two year old shares the double bed in master bedroom with mum. These sleep arrangements existing for the past few months. Birgit didn't order husband from their bed. O'Possum moved out, all sex denied. Sleeping alone; far less frustrating.

O'Possum stirs, five in the morning. Flickering red light enters the room above curtain tops and plays on the ceiling. Metallic sounds and low voices emanate from outside. O'Possum's eyes open, sleepy brain interpreting dancing red light. He sits up. Peeps through front window and smiles at ambulance parked outside Nobby's house. Stupid's fleas? Or was Stupid discovered and it's Nobby off to intensive care? Two ambulance officers wheel a stretcher through the front gate. O'Possum quickly dresses in shorts and tee-shirt.

O'Possum standing at the kerb admires his handy work. Ambulance officers with practised precision, negotiate Nobby's sedated mum into the ambulance. One officer, the male, turns, looking at open front door, expecting a concerned son to comfort mum on the way to hospital. Female officer goes in with the patient. Doors close and the ambulance makes its way down the sleepy street; red lights flickering, siren silent.

O'Possum enters house, walks through to the kitchen. A boiling kettle whistles. Toast pops up. Backdoor's open, Stupid trots inside, followed by Nobby.

'What happened to ya mum?'

'Had an attack of some sort. She's in terrible pain. Told me to call an ambulance.'

'That's no good mate. What sort of attack?'

'She was going on about fleas. Couldn't be fleas.'

'You don't think little Stupid here ...' O'Possum looks at Stupid lying on the floor, head turned into crotch, teeth nibbling mobile irritations. '... could be the culprit?' O'Possum eyes revert to the dog. No balls!

'Probably fleas in the bingo hall.' suggests Nobby. 'Want some toast? Mum got this marmalade. Tastes beaut! Pineapple and orange from ; imported. Have it on my toast every morning.'

'No mate.'

'I got mum this new toaster for Christmas.'

'Such a caring son, young Nobby.'

'Did ya meet Splinta?'

'Na! Didn't turn up. We'll just go 'round his place anyway. Leave here about eight. What do ya say?'

'Eight? Why eight? I can be ready in half an hour.'

'It's early. The missus will probably want milk and stuff for the kid's breakfast. Usually does.'

'See ya and ya boy walking to the shops most mornings.'

'Yeah! He's a good little walker. When he's older, I'll take him for a walk to Uncle Splinta's.'

'Sure ya don't want some delicious marmalade on toast?'

'No mate. No I'm right.' says O'Possum backing away.

Nobby digs deep into marmalade jar with knife coated in margarine.

'Soon as I've finished breakfast with the kids. Okay?'

O'Possum returns home, four year old greets him at the door. 'Where did you go daddy?'

'Hello mate. Been next door. An ambulance came, took the old lady to hospital.'

'Is she going to die?'

'Probably not. Do you want a cuppa tea?'

'Real cuppa tea?'

'Sorry mate. Kid's tea for a few years yet.'

'When I'm big like you.'

'That's right.'

'When I'm big like you, will I get into trouble off mummy for goin' to the pub?'

'Na! You won't be silly like daddy. You won't get into trouble. Ummm! Any milk for your cuppa tea. Or did you two boys', tickling his son under the arms,' drink it all yesterday?'

'Might be some left.'

Younger brother joins them at the kitchen table.

'Tea. Tea.' says the two year old holding up his bottle.

'Mate! You must learn to drink from a cup.' O'Possum makes kid's tea in a training cup. 'Don't say bottle of tea. Say cuppa tea. Say cup.'

'Cup. Cup.'

'Now say "Cup pa tea." for daddy.'

'Cup. Cup. Tea. Tea.'

Three boys chinwag until quarter to seven when O'Possum hands Birgit her hand bag in bed.

'No milk or bread. Want us to go to the shop?'

Birgit sits up, opening hand bag. 'Of course we need milk and bread.' She hands over five dollars in coin. 'Two litres of milk and two loaves of bread.' The younger son climbs back into bed with mum and receives a kiss. O'Possum and four year old son exit. Birgit calls loudly 'Don't forget! Check the use-by-date on the milk and be sure the bread's fresh, not yesterday's.'


	12. The Mating Games Continues

Nobby forages through a large cupboard in the storage room; once served as a guest room. Guests never arrive. Nobby's family never visit. Mum always visits them; alone. The large cupboard contains Nobby's father's effects. Not that Nobby's father is dead. Or alive for that matter, nobody seemingly or knows cares. Told to pack up, piss off , another domestic. He pissed off, not taking much gear.

Stupid's on a lead and Nobby's packed a kit bag when O'Possum comes to collect them. 'Do you have room in the bag for Stupid?' asks O'Possum. Nobby appears mystified. 'You don't want Mother McGaw or any of the other busy body's to see him. Do ya?'

Stupid licks Nobby appreciatively when released from the bag, half a mile into their journey. 'What's in the bag?' enquires O'Possum. Nobby explains. O'Possum regrets asking the question and reflects upon the previous evening.

"Why didn't you marry Splinta?" Although she took his side, Mother-In-Law's homosexual innuendo angers and consumes O'Possum. Splinta? Her own son? A homosexual? Doesn't the old girl, or indeed any woman understand mateship?

Nobby meanwhile detects eyes, stranger's eyes, driving past in cars, looking through windows. Eyes admiring and hypnotised, commenting "Have you ever seen the like? Such a disciplined, intelligent dog and proud worthy master?" Even fearless Splinta won't fail to comment upon seeing Stupid.

Nobby's pride and purpose swell. Yes! With Splinta's help, Stupid will father super pups and save the environment. Riches beyond belief bestowed upon saviour's master. Two brothers, a sister and their families crawling and begging for a slice of the action. Nobby's chest is puffed, head unusually erect, slouch missing from shoulders. Kit bag dangles over one shoulder; much like a haughty seaman. No accidents today.

'How does this dognapping caper work anyway?' Nobby begins conversation involving dogs, conversation eventually leading to one particular dog. Stupid!

'When Splinta sees a valuable dog he nabs it. Watches for a reward notice in the newspaper. That's all.'

'Sounds simple enough. ... He wouldn't try and nab a dog like Mother McGaw's Alsatian would he?'

'Course he would. It's his profession. Guard dogs bring good rewards. People value savage dogs.'

'He must be brave.'

'Has a natural way with dogs.'

'So does ya wife. Dogs must run in ya wife's family?'

'Ya might say that? More so, the female side.'

Nobby momentarily ponders, before saying 'You haven't said anything yet 'bout the way Stupid walks.'

O'Possum eyes follow Stupid's gait, looking for a limp or injury. Finally he says 'Dog walks all right. Nothing wrong with it.'

'Look again.'

O'Possum looks and imagines Stupid's fleas holding desperately by one arm like passengers forced to stand in crowded bouncing bus. 'You mean he's not scratching at fleas?'

'What fleas? I told ya. He only scratches because his skin's sensitive to sunlight.'

'Whatever you say Nobby.'

After a pause Nobby asks 'Notice his tail, the way. It bounces from side to side?'

'It does Nobby; does too. I wonder why?'

'Watch carefully! His tail bounces opposite the foot going in front. See? When his left foot goes forward, his tail bounces to the right. Left right, left right. Always perfectly balanced. Bet he can walk all day.'

'Is this the reason you're so keen on breeding from this ... Umm?'

'Could be.'

The conversation pauses. Smug Nobby knows a secret somebody else wants to know. O'Possum waits for Nobby to blurt whatever bullshit some so-called Bluey bastard loaded onto him. Frustrate Nobby, don't feed the ego.

Silence prevails until, 'This is Splinta's street.' Announces O'Possum. They pass a public telephone box and walk a further four houses.

'I don't believe it. Splinta's car's not here.'

'What? Five miles for nothing?'

'That's funny!' O'Possum comments with suspicion and concern. 'The back gates are open. Better check this out.'

Bang Bang ... Bang Bang ... Bang Bang.

A loud, frightening cracking sound from Splinta's backyard.

Bang Bang ... Bang Bang.

A dog barrage, all shapes, colour and size, mostly pedigree, charge through the open gates. An Irish Wolfhound leads a confused and startled pack. Soldier brings up the rear, his massive frame gaining momentum, smaller dogs scattering from his path. O'Possum realises danger and jumps the neighbouring front fence. Stupid scoots behind the letter box, surprising Nobby who finds himself pulled into the middle of Splinta's driveway.

Wolf .. Wolf Wolf.

Nobby successfully side-steps the Irish Wolfhound and maintains his grip on Stupid's lead.

Ruff Ruff. Ruff Ruff.

Nobby pirouettes, a Border Collie runs harmlessly past.

Wooooolf. Wooooooooolf.

Pirouette leaves Nobby stranded in Soldier's flight path. O'Possum covers his eyes. Stupid winces. A Rottweiler at full speed, likens to a laden super-tanker under full steam and minus a rudder. Soldier's rock-hard head slams into Nobby's gut. Every airy atom escapes back into the atmosphere, eyes bulging, air molecules stream between eyeball and socket. Stupid's lead quits Nobby's grasp as Soldier stampedes straight over him.

Irish Wolfhound charges into the street, wheeling left. The pack follow. Soldier navigating the widest turn, charging down the footpath opposite, brushing flaky white paint from a picket fence.

Prostrate and motionless Nobby lays in the gutter. Stupid fears the worst and wanders dolefully to master's side. O'Possum acts quickly and sits Nobby up.

'You're winded mate.' says O'Possum, forcing Nobby's head between limp legs. 'Kit bag broke ya fall. Otherwise you'd be a hospital case. ... Come on Nobby take a breath. Just a small one first.'

'aaaaaaaaargh.' Nobby's mouth opens wide, managing only a hoarse throaty gasp.

'Come on mate. You'll be right in a minute.'

'aaaaaaaaargh. ... aaaaaaaaaaaaaargh'

'Keep your head down. You'll get ya wind back in a sec. I better go and see what's happening 'round the back.'

'Splinta! Are you there Splinta? You-who! Are you there Splinta?' calls O'Possum walking through open back gates.

'Oh! It's you O'Possum.' calls Splinta, slinking out from under the house.

'What's goin' on? Why ya hiding?'

'The worst thing that can go wrong in this business, went wrong this mornin'. I've chased out all me stock. Easily a thousand dollars worth; a fortnight's income and not only that! I'm out of business.'

'I saw all the dogs. What happened?'

'I went to collect a reward this mornin'. A lousy fifty bucks. Gave the usual story, how the kids got attached to the mutt.'

'What kids?'

'Pretend kids. Sometimes gets me a bonus.'

'Didn't work?'

'I've got a spot on memory for dogs and streets and houses. But I'm not so good with people, especially women. You know! They can put on weight or just as easily lose it. Change their hair. The style, the colour. They only have to wear different clothes to confuse ya. Anyway! I knew I'd never nabbed a dog from this house before, not even the same street and I'd definitely never nabbed the same dog before. Well ya not goin' to believe it. The dirty dog lovers moved house. Not to another town or suburb. Na! One measly block they moved and changed dogs to boot. Thought she went for her purse after I'd strung her the story about the kids. Was hoping for a bonus. But when man mountain come to the door. I twigged. He hadn't come to exchange pleasantries. I ran.'

'Man mountain?'

'Man bloody mountain all right. Six foot six and easily twenty stone. I hear him call out to the missus. "Ring the cops." Me car's a bit down the road but couldn't go near it. Doesn't pay to advertise one's rego. So I ran in the opposite direction. Man mountain must be one of those mongrels who don't drink or smoke 'cause in no time he's right behind me.'

'But you got away didn't ya?'

'I was duckin', turnin', weavin' like a Kelpie. Couldn't shake him. Began jumpin' fences and runnin' through back yards, it's me speciality. Still couldn't shake him. Then I remembered a house nearby, three Dobermans in the backyard. I was in and out before they knew what happened. They were ready for man mountain. Pity I didn't stay and watch the fun. When I ran into the next street, there's his missus in her car waitin' for me. So it was back over fences again.'

'Yeah! But ya got away?'

'Over into the next street I went. There she was waitin' for me again. And a bloody cop car cruises by. She started blowing the horn, yelling to them and pointing at me.'

'What did ya do?'

'Needed a breather, so I pulled me shirt over me head so they wouldn't recognise me and just stood there until they got close. Then it was back over the fences again with two pigs in hot pursuit and ordering me to halt. One was a sheila. I was twisting and turnin' like a Kelpie again so they couldn't get a good shot at me and I didn't want them getting too far behind me. 'cause it was back in with the Dobermans again. I waved to man mountain.'

'Did he wave back?'

'Na! Busy. So were the Dobermans. I got through again but they were ready for the coppers.'

'You must 've stuck around this time?'

'Had another breather. Heard the sheila cop screamin'. Then gunshots. Got me second wind. Quick! Real quick.'

'So what's the problem? You got away.'

'Not if the Dobermans did a good job on them coppers. I'll be hunted for sure.'

'What can they get you for? Nothing serious. All the evidence is gone.'

'Not completely. Still got one to go. That rocky bitch ...' says Splinta pointing '... chained to the gum tree up the back. Soon as she comes too. I'll be behind her with a wet newspaper like the others and just hope she runs off. 'cause if she don't? She will fight to the death.'

'Overdosed her valium mate?'

'Na! Got her blind drunk last night.'

'You what?'

'That's how we nabbed her. Got her pissed.'

'Oh!'

'She'll have one hell of a hangover. And the bitch is easily the crankiest, most savage thing I've ever nabbed.'

'Where's your car?'

'The Wizard's getting it. Soon as he gets back, valuables are packed. I'll load up and be off. ... Cripes! .. Who's this comin' through the gates?'

'Don't panic! It's Nobby, me nextdoor neighbour.'

Feeling dizzy, Nobby supports himself against the gates with one hand. He holds both kit bag and dog lead in the other. Stupid, a most unwilling visitor remains unsighted, pulling in the opposite direction. 'What's wrong Stupid? Come on!' Nobby calls feebly.

'Stupid? Who's he calling stupid?'

'His dog.'

'Not a little ...? Ahh bullshit! Mate! I'm trying to get rid of dogs and this moron's bringing one back.'

'But Splinta?'

'What does he want?'

'He's hoping you've got a bitch here on heat. To mate with his dog.'

Splinta's bug eyes stare menacingly.

'Splinta! He's desperate to get pups from the mutt. Don't ask me why! He'll go to any length, suffer any injury, do anything to mate the scroungy little mutt.'

'O'Possum! Get rid of him.'

'You've got a bitch here. Let's have a bit of fun'

'I just told ya what's happened this morning ...'

'Splinta! Timing couldn't be better. If uninvited guests arrive Nobby will create a perfect diversion. Ssssh! Here he comes. Don't say anything about the police.'

Splinta sits on shaded back steps, face in hands.

'Gidday!' says Nobby feeling a little recovered, dragging Stupid toward Splinta.

'Gidday!' replies Splinta without enthusiasm. 'And what 've we got here?'

'A dog.'

'Mmmm! What breed is it?'

'An n- n nackerman.'

'Can't say I've heard of that breed before.'

'He's the only one in the world. That's why I have to get pups from him. Do ya have a bitch I can mate him with?'

'O'Possum are you sure, really sure the timing is right?'

'Mate! Do it.'

'Well Nobby. See that Rocky bitch up the back? You can mate him with her. If he's stupid enough?'

'He's Stupid all right.' interrupts O'Possum. 'That's his name.'

'Who do you think bloody named him?' retaliates Splinta. 'I mean he's much too small for her.'

'Who named him?' O'Possum questions Nobby.

'The C.S.I.R.O.' responds Nobby before realising his mistake.

'An ackorym? C.S.I.R.O.? This sounds like that pub competition. You remember? Don't ya Splinta?'

'What's all that got to do with mating dogs. All I'm saying, the little mutt's much too small to mate with that Rocky bitch.'

'Little blokes like to prove themselves. Let him have a go.'

'Little Blokes? Prove themselves? What are you getting at O'Possum?'

'Splinta! Don't take everything so personal. Let him have a go. Do you have a crate or something he can stand on?'

'Ahh! Okay. ... What have I got to loose? There's a milk crate 'round the side of the house.'

'Thanks Splinta.' says Nobby. 'What do we do first?'

'Sorry Nobby! Splinta and I have business to discuss. You and Stupid will be right. Let nature take its course. Grab the crate.'

'You're a sadist.' mutters Splinta rolling a cigarette.

Nobby and Stupid collect the crate before making their way to the gum tree.

'Mate! Wait to you see! To you see my neighbour in action.'

'What's in the bag?'

'Dog mating accessories ...'

'Accessories?'

'... but the little mutts got no ...'

'Are the dogs balls in the bag?'

'... balls. That's what I was going to say. The dog's denutted and stupid Nobby hasn't even noticed.'

'Stupid! Come on!' calls Nobby dragging the dog. 'What are you? A dog or a mouse?'

'it it it it '

'Stop making mouse sounds and come on.'

'The rocky will notice.' says the dognapper gravely. 'The very first thing she'll notice. Without balls she'll chew him up and spit out little pieces. ... I'm just goin' to have a peek out front.' Splinta enters the house and spies through front windows.

"Nothing suspicious?' asks O'Possum when Splinta returns.

'Na! I hope Wizard turns up soon.'

'Yeah! I want him to see the fun as well.'

'I was thinking more about my get away. .. What's? What's this clown up to?'

'Yesterday Tried mating Stupid with Mother McGaw's mad Alsatian. He's missing a few pieces from his arse.'

'What? Puttin' on another pair of jeans?'

'There's more.'

'A jumper? In this heat?'

'There's still more.'

'Jeez The dog's shivering with fright.'

'Splinta! Sit down. The dog'll be okay. He's got more brains than Nobby. He'll get out of the way when the fun starts.'

'Holy Moses! Shorts on top of jeans.?'

'Luv to know why he's doing all this. He won't let on.'

'Where did he get them overalls from? Biggest pair I've ever seen. You wouldn't wear that much gear down the South Pole.'

'His old man was a boilly.'

'He's having a bit of trouble getting the safety boots on.'

'Yeah! Steel capped boots I told you's about. The metal detector. Remember?'

'You weren't havin' a lend of us.'

'Don't need too. Not with Nobby. Now wait. There's one more item. 'And if you think ya eyes are playing tricks?'

'They are!' Splinta rubs his eyes. 'Have to be.'

'No mate.'

'By God!'

'His old man's welding helmet. Face protection.'

'But he won't be able to see.' ... 'Shhh! Did you hear a noise?'

'Na!'

'Quick O'Possum. Over the side fence.'

Nobby sits Stupid on milk crate positioned behind Matilda. 'Now! You know what to do.' Nobby tries lifting Matilda to her feet. 'Aaagh! ... Aaaaaaagh!'

Two police enter through the side gates.

'What do we have here Constable?'

'Not the midget dognapper Sarge.'

'Let's call her Juliet.' says Nobby 'And from now on! Romeo! Yeah! A much better, more romantic name than Stupid. Romeo! Live up to your new name.'

'Yelp.'

'Should'nt we question him Sarge?'

'Hang on a bit. Wait 'till he brings out the welder.'

'What's he going to weld?'

'Unspeakable suspicions.'

Matilda senses intruders, heavy eyes fail to open but she utters a deep dry menacing gurgles.

'Get back on the crate Stupid. .. I mean Romeo. You now have a reputation. Live up to it.' Again Nobby places unwilling Romeo on milk crate then tries standing Matilda.

'Raaagh.'

Matilda's jaws almost reach Nobby's hand. Gravity and a stinging, excruciating, jaging pain penetrates her skull; immobilising savagery.

Romeo decamps the crate, tightly wrapping all fours around Nobby's leg.

'Not me!' cries Nobby. 'You won't get pups from me. Back on the crate.'

'Look Sarge! Chains everywhere, water dishes too! Definitely a dognapping operation. Shouldn't we question this ...?'

'Patience Constable.'

Nobby bends to release Romeo but vast clothing impedes. So he stands, hand balancing against the gum tree trying to kick Romeo free. Nobby's head tilts back, kicking, calling for assistance. 'O'Possum! O'Possum! Help me.'

'Constable! Do you see any possums in the tree?'

'No Sarge.'

'Take notes.'

The Constable pulls out a notebook.

'O'Possum! I'll give you a pup. A pup all for yourself if ya come and help me.'

'You getting all this Constable?'

'Yeah!'

'Splinta! Splinta will ya help me? Help me unite Romeo and Juliet.'

'Who's Splinta Sarge?'

'Might be the possum's name. Write it down word for word.'

Matilda slowly lifts weights on eyelids. She stands. Stupid sees her, forgoes the leg, and scuttles up Nobby's back, into gum tree's lowest fork.

'Now there's a dog worth breeding from.' suggests Sarge.

'That little mutt?'

'Ever see a dog climb a tree?'

'Can't say I have. ... Right!'

Nobby's hands reach up to tree's fork. Romeo climbs higher.

Matilda targets Nobby's arse.

Yowwwww. Yowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

'What will we do Sarge?'

Yowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

'Shouldn't we help him?' continues the Constable.

Yowwwwwwwwwwwwwww

'Been enough police mauled by dogs today.' replies Sarge, chin rubbing.

Yowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

'We could shoot the dog.'

Yowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

'Been enough dogs shot today. Besides!' continues Sarge dryly 'If the intention was? What I think. He's reaping his just rewards.'

Yowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

'You mean welding them together? Bizarre stuff Sarge.'

Yowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

'Inhuman! say Sarge walking toward the gates. 'Totally inhuman.'

'Shouldn't we check the house?'

Sarge keeps walking.

The Constable catches up. 'What about the midget? He could be hiding inside.'

'Doesn't matter. No evidence.'

'The chains and water dishes.'

'Circumstantial. Without dogs or a reliable witness ...'

Yowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

'Shouldn't we interview the boilermaker?'

'What? Be laughed out of court ? A deranged sadist, crown witness? Besides! Hasn't it occurred to you yet Constable?'

'Occurred? What Sarg?'

'If we arrest the midget? He could make serious allegations. Point the finger of corruption at you.' Sarge pokes vigorously Constable's chest. 'And involve me. Let it go.'

'But the midget hospitalised two fellow officers.'

'They'll recover. ... I'm not doing my superannuation over a bloody pup.'

'But the midget didn't take the Doberman to my sister's. The real owner did.'

'Great! Another witness supporting the midget's accusations.'

'What about the dog owners? They can identify him.'

'He returned a lost dog. Let it go. Or we'll both end up in shit. Or worse!'

She rips through layer upon layered clothing, Matilda's morning-after mouth dehydrates, dangerously so. Must find water, blood lust subsides. She quits savaging Nobby's arse, trudges off and discovers a quenching water dish.

O'Possum follows Splinta over side fence when the police exit. 'Told ya! Didn't I Splinta? Perfect diversion. Even Nobby's good for something.'

Splinta in disbelief, picks up a newspaper, wets it with the hose. 'Didn't even search the house.'

Sneaking behind Matilda, Splinta bangs the newspaper loudly. Matilda turns, growls, returns juiceless tongue to water dish.

'You over grown bitch.' decides Splinta loudly. 'I'll give you water.'

Splinta uncoils the hose and turns it on full. 'Cop this!' menaces Splinta, approaching Matilda from the rear, aiming water torrent.

Matilda turns, faces him, mouth open wide ,accepting the torrent.

'Good! Stay and drown.'

Thirst quenched, Matilda trundles off through side gates. Splinta follows, hosing her until Matilda exits the premises.

Nobby's cheek, scratched and scraped against tree bark, bleeds openly. The welding helmet ripped from his head , offered minimal protection. Arms encircle gum tree's trunk. Eyes tightly closed, mouth sucking in air; fearing another attack.

'You'll be right mate?' comments O'Possum approaching Nobby. 'We've chased her off.'

'Will I live?' mumbles Nobby.

O'Possum inspects Nobby's rear. 'Ahhh! ...Yuck!'

'Am I? Am I bleeding to death?'

'Can't see any blood. But ya undies! They're full of shit. She ripped through everything else. Stopped at the shit. Probably saved ya.'

'Where's Romeo? Is he all right?'

'Romeo? What Romeo?'

'Stupid! I changed his name to Romeo.' answers Nobby, arms frozen around tree trunk.

'You're remarkable. Truly remarkable Nobby. Faced with certain death you found time to change Stupid's name.' O'Possum calls Splinta returning through the side gates. 'Splinta! Splinta! Bring the hose up here.'

O'Possum takes the hose from Splinta and shoves it into Nobby's underpants. 'We'll clean you up mate. See if there's any damage.' O'Possum removes the hose, winks at brother-in-law saying, 'Splinta! Do you have any metho?'

Nobby swoons, slumps, slides slowly down tree trunk.

'What? What are we going to do with him?' asks Splinta rolling a cigarette.

'He'll be right. Dry out in no time. I wonder what happened to the mutt? Stupid! Stupid!' calls O'Possum.

Stupid whimpers, both men look up into the tree.

'Told ya he'd get out of the way.' O'Possum's arms inviting . 'Jump boy. Come on.'

Stupid jumps. O'Possum catches and quickly places Stupid on the ground, avoiding appreciative licks on the face. Stupid goes to unconscious Nobby and licks bloodied cheek.

Splinta points at Nobby ready to revive. 'He might be a hospital case.'

'Hang on.' says O'Possum quickly looking in Nobby's underpants. 'He's f9ine. Only yesterday's wounds. And they're healing up okay.'

'Take him home then.' demands Splinta.

'Me!'

'You brought him here.'

'Mate! The arse out of his pants. I'm not walking across town with him. Anyway! Going to the dole office. Put my form in, otherwise no pay tomorrow. Which will make somebody real bloody happy.'

Rolling up the hose and returning to the tap, O'Possum calls back. 'No money otherwise? Shove him in a taxi; cost about ten dollars.'

O'Possum returns, Splinta considers a taxi. 'If Wizard would only return with me car. Drop Nobby home. Where can Wiz be?'

'Might have turned up when your visitors were parked out front.'

'Well where would he go?'

'Splinta mate. Where's our usual meeting place?'

'This time of the day.'

'Have ya got ten dollars? We'll send Nobby home then go find The Wizard.'

A few beers, very appealing, Splinta approves 'Yeah! The Wizard. Go and find Wiz. No point hanging around here.'


	13. Lucky Us!

Mrs. McGaw slept well all night; her rear bedroom no traffic noise. No evidence of an ambulance next door, phone rings at 8:30 AM, her opposite neighbour Rosie wakes her. Tagged "Nosey Rosie" in her street, she's been resident here only six years. Her three bedroom fibro cottage, the family's first bought home, after five years renting an apartment. She's average height, red head and freckled, born in Australia of Northern Irish immigrants. Her husband works in an oil refinery, his wage above average. Two children, both girls walk to and from the local primary school, 500 meters away. Most afternoons mum meets her two daughters at the school gate, a chance to network with other mums.

"Nosey Rosie" enquires about the ambulance. For Mrs. McGaw fresh news, which delights "Nosey Rosie"; news breaker her favorite past time. Mrs. McGaw promises to keep "Nosey Rosie" informed with any further news, next slips on her dressing gown and goes to the back fence. She calls out, "Phyllis! Phyllis!" and is surprised to see what appears to be a water bowl and food bowl beside the foot of the stairs. She gulps, muttering, 'A dog? God forbid!'

'Nobby! Nobby!' she calls. No answer, hurriedly, panicky, soon knocking loudly on her neighbour's front door. 'Nobby! Nobby!' she calls again, no answer; "Nosey Rosie" witnesses all from behind a curtain.

Back home a quick shower and dressed, and just after 9:00 AM she's ringing the local hospitals to locate her friend. Bingo! First call admitted to the closest hospital, thank goodness a spare bed available. A cheaper fare, she phones for a cab.

A taxi pulls up outside, Mrs. McGaw waiting slides her curtain only to see it go next door and behold who gets out? Nobby carrying a work bag with a dogs head peering about. The taxi driver pushes out a piece of cardboard that Nobby had sat on. Nobby turns to face the driver, who

loudly demands additional money. Mrs. McGaw notices Nobby's wet, stained and ripped rear. She gulps, muttering, 'Shit himself? God forbid!'

Try to grab this taxi, thinks Mrs. McGaw. No, quiz Nobby first about Mum. Then the taxi reverses to her front gate, horn toots, not too loudly. Off to hospital she goes to see her best friend of twenty five years.

Nobby turning the front door key, turns his head in time to recognize Mrs. McGaw's blue rinse, holding her nose driving past in a taxi. 'Mmmmmm!' thinks Nobby. The "Old Girl's" gone out, it is baking hot already; surely her Alsatian must be on heat.

Stupid winces!

'You read my mind! A true "Wonder Dog"! We need a gentler girl. A sweet heart, ha ha ha. I know a sweetie, perfect for you, true love waits nearby.' Door opens, Nobby sings, 'I love Candy!'

"Nosey Rosie" closing her front curtain remains standing on her small mat that protects the carpet and ponders her next move. Nobby home in a taxi, first time ever, where has he been so early in the day? A lazy good for nothing, and why his father's work bag? Is that a dog head sticking out of the bag? What an imbecile? What's Nobby doing with a dog? Where is Mrs McGaw going?

In detective mode, "Nosey Rosie" peers through the curtain once more. The street empty, no curtains disturbed, she makes her move. First a pair of laundry gloves fitted, "Nosey Rosie's" floral dress flowing, briskly makes her way, to Nobby's house. Head turns in both directions, no witnesses, she picks up the discarded cardboard from the gutter outside Nobby's front fence. Her nose screws in disgust, cardboard soon sails over Nobby's front fence.

'Imbecile!' she mutters briskly returning home. 'Shit himself!'

Once inside, gloves carefully removed and soaked in disinfectant, front curtains soon open a little, after that wide. She peers down the street, her gaze focusing on the O'Grady house. Trouble is brewing in the street! She heard the wine bottle explode on the pavement yesterday, quick to her window, witnessed O'Possum swiftly departing the scene. After an appropriate time, armed with broom and dustpan she cleaned up the broken glass; proud to perform a public duty.

'What are you doing?' demanded Birgit from her open front door.

'Cleaning up a mess. Children use this path, this is a safety hazard. You want to do it?'

Birgit retired inside, nose uplifted and slightly out of joint, smashed bottle a task awaiting O'Possum. "Nosey Rosie!" another reason to escape this street. What a meddlesome, prying, gossiping bitch?

'Bluey didn't tell me you climb trees little mate.' commented Nobby when earlier releasing Stupid from the work bag. 'Quite a morning, hey fella. Fella! Mmmm! Change your name to Fella.' Nobby moves to the opposite wall and calls out "Fella!"; no reaction from his little mate. "Stupid!" calls Nobby, the little dogs goes to him.

Nobby peers through a side window and sees two little boys playing in the backyard with Candy. Thinks, later when they have a nap with Mum, romance can wait.

'Hungry boy?' Nobby retrieves food and water bowls and places them on the laundry floor. 'No proper dog food yet.' Nobby spots two cold, cooked sausages from last night's dinner in the fridge. 'One each! Lucky us!'


	14. Work SUX

O'Possum tacks onto a twenty-minute dole queue. Splinta waits outside, surveying Social Security clientele; young to old, homeless looking and even business types.

Robbo exits Social Security. 'Hello Splinta! Never seen you here before?'

'Waitin' for O'Possum, did ya see him inside?'

'No! I wasn't in the line. Had an interview with a case worker.'

'Everything go alright?'

'Splinta mate! Been shitting myself with worry. Ever since I got the letter. Knew what questions they are going to ask. You know? What am I doing to find work? Can't say "I don't want to work".

Splinta, not surprised has trouble withholding contempt. "Have you ever worked?

'Yeah!' Replies Robbo rubbing his chin. 'bout ten years ago. Postman!'

'Postie! Sounds like a good job to me.'

' Not if ya hate dogs. And you know why I hate dogs? 'cause they hate me. That's why I quit. Mongrels waitin' for me, hiding behind fences or bushes. Knew what time I came past their house. Knew the sound of my footsteps. Poor bastards must've hated the weekends.'

' Ya didn't pack a water pistol?'

'Shit! Wish I met you ten years back. Jeez! It was a good job except for the ambushing mongrels.' Robbo pretends to shoot a pistol, aiming low. 'Cop that Spot! Fido, right between the eyes. Ha ha ha.'

' Get ya old job back Robbo.'

' Na! Too late for that.' Sniffles. 'Much too late!'

'How old are ya?'

'Thirty two!'

'Still young mate. Fight back! Take control!'

'Too late for that. Ya know? Ya know what I said in the interview? When they asked what efforts I make to find work. I blurted out.' Robbo swallows hard. 'None! Can't work, I'm an alcoholic.'

'You said that? What happened then?'

'She ripped up the form. Threw it in the rubbish. I'm thinking I've really screwed up.'

'What will ya do for beer money? '

'Then she says, "I'm afraid Mr Robertson, this makes you ineligible for unemployment benefits." I felt my bowels moving.'

'Did ya shit yourself Robbo?' Asks Splinta inspecting Robbo's rear.

'Nearly!'

'Can't say I'd blame ya, if ya did.'

'Anyway she pulls out another form and begins filling it out, asking me questions, about this and that. Like how much I drink? How often?'

'You didn't tell her the truth, did ya?'

' I did! Told her everything. Like I was hypnotised. Wanted to get it off my chest.'

'Robbo! Mate you must get a job now, how else can you get drinking money. Maybe Maggot can help?'

'Splinta mate! I never have to work again.'

'What?'

'Got another form.' Robbo points to his top pocket of a faded blue business shirt, reserved for appointments at Social Security, weddings and funerals. ' Gotta take this to my own doctor, so he can confirm I'm an alcoholic.'

'Really?'

'If he confirms it? Better than a lottery win. I go on a disability pension, no fortnightly forms pretending I searched for work. Everything above board.'

Bug eyes protrude even more, forehead frowning, hands on hips, Splinta's astonished at Robbo's revelations.

' Bit worried though!' Continues Robbo, 'What if the Doctor won't sign my form? What should I say to him? How should I play it Splinta?'

'Go with a gut full of grog. Let the beer do ya talking.'

'Mate! Wish I'd met you long ago. You're better than a lawyer. Will shout you a few beers. For sure mate. Worth more than a few.'

Robbo pats Splinta's shoulder in appreciation than wanders off, pretending to shoot dogs. After a few meters he wheels back to Splinta, pistols disappear. 'Mate! What can I tell my Mum?'

'What does she think about you being on the dole for ten years?'

'We don't really discuss it anymore. She had hopes, dreams for me, proud of her boy when I got the Post Office job.'

'Don't tell her!'

'But Splinta? She's not only my Mum, she's my friend. And now, her son a deadbeat alcoholic. No hopes, no dreams …!'

'No pride!' Interjects Splinta. 'Can't help ya there Robbo.'

'Bloke be better off with mental illness! A mental illness, that's what I'll tell Mum! Splinta! What mental illness? Any ideas?'

'I'll ask Wiz for you, probably had experience with such matters. I'll tell him. Fear of dogs! Anything else you fear, apart from work?'

'Women! They scare me.' Replies Robbo walking off, frowning , worried, celebration over.

Puffing on a rolly, Splinta surveys Pram & Stroller Suburbia Sydney, children and babies, strapped in and wheeled around. No fathers in tow; out Job Searching?

Two mothers meet, prams park midstream; hindering Thursday's throng. They natter, Splinta listens.

Mid-teen mother of one, bright red highlights in long brunette hair, limber figure, regulation skin-tight jeans. She lights up a cigarette asking, 'Who's the spunk, saw you with last week?'

Pear-Shape, dark roots visible within bleached blonde shoulder length hair. A mid-twenty mother of four, bursting out of her "Look at my tits" dress, creeping over her "Himalayan" arse. She bends over, retrieving baby's bottle from the pavement. 'Wait 'till I get my hands on that arsehole.' And lights up.

'He looked nice.'

'Shouted him schooners, took him home. Not even a decent lay. Blew before I'd even closed my eyes. Tried everything, couldn't get it back up again, and the dog-bastard pissed off in the middle of the night after helping himself to my purse. No money all week for cigarettes or anything.'

Supermarket finished, baby sitter found, off to the club. A losing burst at the pokies and chance pick up. Testicle testing time, another welfare benefit baby needed.

'Did you go to the police?'

'You are naive, aren't you Mary Kate?'

'Why?'

'Arsehole's gunna turn up. Fix him myself. Going to the club tonight?'

'No baby sitter.'

'What about your young sister?'

'Bitch! Got herself a boyfriend.'

'Ya mum?'

'Not talking.'

'What happened?'

'Still got the shits 'cause I got lost. Ya know? For a few days, last time I left the baby with her.'

'Same as my "Old Lady". Practically have to beg the bitch.'

'And my cracks itching like crazy.'

Splinta looks. No wonder! Jeans crotch seam cuts deep into mid-teen mother's privates.

'Seen Dangler at all?' asks Pear-Shape.

'Nope! Not for a while.'

'Cheryl heard he went up north. Maybe got a job.' Thinks for a moment, 'Most unlikely.'

Single mothers networking. Multiple fathers, tabs kept in the unlikely event one of them scores employment. Straight to the courthouse; pay he must.

'Could've scored a shitload of dope, only reason he'd go north. Certainly not for the sunshine.' laughs Mary Kate. 'You know? Crystal's screwing his brother. She can find out.'

'Do I know her?'

'Lives in my block. I'll ask her. Tell you what. She'll probably baby sit for me tomorrow. Call me if you find a sitter.'

'Okay!' agrees Pear-Shape. ... 'Mary!'

'Yeah!'

'I wasn't going to tell you this. But I guess somebody should.'

'Tell me? What about?'

'In a phone box ...'

Splinta thinks 'Phone box? Mary K! Could it be?'

' ... near my place. Somebody wrote you're going down on dogs.'

'Bullshit!'

'Mary K sux big juicy dog's balls. True! Big letters in the phone box.'

'That slag-bitch Angel. I'll shove a dildo fair down her cock starved throat.'

Splinta gulps.

'Isn't she the one with teeth like a horse?'

'That's her. That week I lost, went to a rave. Dogs is the man with the tabs, and endless hydra. Smoked him twice, two tabs, half an ounce of weed and a bottle of bourbon.'

'You must've smoked him good.' Laughs Pear-Shape.

'Put on a good show! Dog's, maybe be going places, little Lord! Told Angel the mole. Ya know? ' Scoffs! 'Make her jealous. Straight behind my back, and put it on Dogs. "Piss off!" he told her. Ha ha ha!'

'Can't blame him. Teeth like that make any man shudder. What are you going to do? She's slagging you blow four legged dogs.'

'Told you what I'll do and. And I can spread real guttery stuff about too. Don't worry.'

'Ice cream. Ice cream' demands pear shape's four year old, son of Dangler, rescuing an ice cream wrapper from the gutter.

'Want! Want! Want! Shut up or you won't get anything.' Shrieks Pear-Shape. ... 'This Dogs. What's he like? Where does he hang?'

'Haven't seen him for a month or more.'

Splinta moves on, quite wiser but suffering from the gutter talk.

'Was the midget eves-dropping us? ' Asks Mary Kate loudly.

'Hope so!' Laughs Pear-Shape and equally loud. 'Imagine a midget getting' a head job?'

'Not if he lives to a hundred.'

'You cruel bitch!'

They hilariously high-five, completing their humiliation of Splinta.

O'Possum surfaces from Social Security. No Splinta! O'Possum assumes his mate became impatient and is somewhat surprised to find Splinta, several doors down, gazing into a teeming aquarium, in a pet shop window.

'What are you looking at?' asks O'Possum.

'Ahhh! Nothin' really. Another world! Just waiting for you.'

'I thought you took off when you weren't out front.'

'Jeez! You honestly expect me to wait in front of the dole joint?'

'Why not? Ya gunna be waiting inside pretty soon.'

'No! .. Way!'

'Whatever you say Splinta.'

'I said no way and I mean it. I! I tell you what, it's a bloody education. Saw a young bloke come out. Say about twenty, had a T-shirt on. In big letters it said "WORK SUX." Unbelievable! What's happening?'

'I know the bloke you mean. Did you see what's written on the back?'

'No! Walked off.'

"The only job I want is head."

'I've been paying tax for shit like that?' explodes Splinta.

'Bet he's never had a job, and probably never will.'

'If he's got drugs, he can get the job he wants. Bloody streets are teeming with shit.'

'I mean a proper job. Mate! Spotted a notice in Social Security for a course they're running soon. Security officers. You interested?'

'What do you mean? How many useless courses can you do before realising they're a waste of time?'

'Yeah! I know. But the gift you've got with dogs, really savage dogs. Got me thinkin', we can do the course. Qualify, get jobs even if the pay's lousy. We learn the ropes, then go into business for ourselves.'

'Bloody guard dogs, expensive. Jeez! O'Possum ya don't set up business out of thin air.'

'I know! And there's plenty of other overheads as well. But with the guard dogs. Couldn't we borrow somebody else's for a while? You know?'

'You havin' a lend of me?'

'No!'

'Borrow? ... Borrow? You mean steal.'

'Well! What I ...'

'For crying out loud, say what you mean.'

'Steal! Steal a couple of guard dogs.'

'Not a problem. What other overheads could we reckon on?'

'I'll do some research.'

'Could I do the course without going on the dole?'

'I'll go back and ask.'

'Come on have a beer. .. In future say what you mean. ... Uniforms! Another expense.'

'Torches!'

'Bloody dog food. The biggest overhead for sure. But I like the idea of goin' into business. ... Maybe something else. Doesn't involve dogs.'

'Now ya talkin' Splinta.'

'That's if I'm not in the slammer.'

'You got rid of the evidence. Don't worry.'


	15. Japs in the Jungle

'You two are early today.' comments Hazel, pouring two schooners.

'Lookin' for The Wizard' says O'Possum. 'Have you seen him?'

'No! Wasn't in yesterday either. ... The rest of Serendib's here.'

'I'll go to the TAB and have a look.' volunteers O'Possum and exits High Noon.

'Just one schooner thanks' Hazy.'

Splinta surveys the bar, rolling a cigarette. Hazy's right it's early, not yet noon but Serendib's inmates have Hazy flat-chat. Robbo gulps, Harvey guzzles, Collapsible Sid sips continuously and Jack just swallows, and yet all four glasses empty in unison. One wing Lionel debates Vietnam with Sir Bob, going schooner for schooner. Only Shakin drinks alone.

Collapsible Sid still standing, but for how much longer wonders Splinta. Harvey laughs aloud on telling a yarn from his younger days up bush. Even Robbo, his best mate looks away, embarrassed. Pension day at High Noon; schooners, schooners everywhere every second Thursday. Mates on unemployment celebrate too; repaying today's beers on their benefit payday.

'Where ya been Wiz?' asks Splinta when Wizard arrives. 'Where's the car?'

'Please Little Splinta, bloke needs a drink.' Wizard wipes his perspiring forehead with faded, wrinkled handkerchief.

'A beer for Wiz please Hazy. What's happened? Where's the car?'

'Little Splinta. Ya car, it's at Serendib, safe and out of sight. So don't worry Little Splinta. Roll me a cigarette please Little Splinta.'

'Where ya been?'

'I nearly killed Soldier.' replies Wizard, clutching at the middy, swallowing until glass is empty. 'Where's that cigarette?' The Wizard accepts a rolly and lighter from Splinta. 'You're a gentleman Little Splinta.'

'What soldier?'

Wizard whispers. 'The one we nabbed last night Little Splinta.'

'Oh! That Soldier! What happened?'

'I picked up the, car no troubles but not far from your place a pack of dogs charged across the road, right in front of me. When I recognised Soldier, I swerved, went over an embankment. Tow truck pulled me out. Here's the bill.' Wizard hands towing account to Splinta. 'I eventually got to your place, but you weren't home.'

'Blimey! Sixty bucks?'

'Keep cool Little Splinta. We'll get an outsider up.'

Hazy serves another middy. Wizard sips, nearly chokes 'Shit! Shakin's headed our way. Break out the wet weather gear Little Splinta.'

Cigarette dangling from mouth, Shakin moves slowly toward them, almond eyes concentrate on foaming frantic middy, vibrating violently between both hands. Canvas shoes and old brown trouser bottoms soaked wet, and a frothy trail follows behind.

'Gid-gid-gidday Splint-a.'

'Hello Shakin. How ya been?'

'G-Good! Gid-gid-gidday, Wom-Wombat. Are, are ya talk-in', t-to me?'

'Always! Bought you a beer last night. Remember?'

'Ya Ya bas-tard Wom-Wombat. Been b-b-barred for th-three months. First d-day back t-t-today.'

'No Shakin! 'says Splinta. 'Aren't you barred from the Rose & Thorn?'

'Ch-Charlie b-barred me for l-life. Here! Th-three m-months.'

'Three months without a beer. Shit! And you survived?' comments O'Possum, returning to High Noon.

'Gid-gid-gidday O'Poss-Possum.'

'Could've sworn we had a beer together last night.'

'Bull-bull-bullshit. Wom-Wombat.'

'What's all this about?' asks Splinta. 'Two old Diggers like you's should be friends.'

'D-D-Diggers!' says Shakin scornfully, lifting nearly wasted middy to phlegmy lips. Fluid escapes mouth corners, trickling, meeting under stubbly chin, dripping onto ancient vest. O'Possum grimaces, looks away. Wizard hurries his middy.

Splinta calls to Hazy 'Another round. Include Shakin.'

Wizard frowns. 'No! Leave me out Little Splinta. Haven't been to the bank yet, gotta put bets on and grab cigarettes.'

'Pi-Pi-Piss off! Wom-Wombat.'

'What's up between you two?' asks O'Possum when Wizard exits.

'Yeah!' agrees Splinta. 'What have you got against The Wizard?'

'Wiz-Wizard? Ha ha ha.' Shakin laughs.

Hazy serves more beers, warning. 'Do you want the Publican to bar you again Shakin?'

'Na-No Hazy!'

'He will. When you move, ask somebody to carry your beer. Don't flood the carpet. Otherwise six months next time.'

'O-O-Ok-ay!'

Splinta holds Shakin's beer to old Digger's mouth, letting him swallow greedily before placing the glass on the bar.

'Th-Thanks Splinta. C-C-Can I have m-more?'

Splinta repeats the procedure but when trying to remove the glass, Shakin clutches at it with both hands pulling to his mouth, swallowing furiously, emptying the glass. After wiping his mouth with sleeve, Shakin pulls ten dollars from fob pocket and places it on the bar.

'M-My shout.'

'Blimey! Haven't even touched mine.'

O'Possum calls to Hazy. 'Another middy! Now tell us Shakin. What's goin' on?'

'Wh-when I kn-knew him, no, w-wasn't no wizard. Just a pr-private in New-New Guinea, Pri-Private Wom-Wombat.' Middy arrives and Shakin gestures for Splinta's assistance.

Another long drink, Shakin continues 'Ask him. A-A-A-Ask him to, to tell you's 'bout Little Ar-Arnie. And-And about the am-ammo d-dump. The-then you ...' he gestures for Splinta's help, finishes the middy. 'Then you's, you's will know.'

'Know what?' O'Possum asks impatiently.

'Horrors-h-horrors of war. C-c-c-cowardice! Be-be b-better off, dead. Be-better than be, being a c-c-c-coward.' Shakin walks off, somewhat steadier, toward another group.

'Ya change!' calls Splinta.

Shakin turns. 'B-beers on me.'

'A few more beers and he'll be talkin' like a solicita.' comments Splinta.

'What about Wizard and this Little Arnie? Splinta! Reckon we should quiz him?'

'Why not?'

'Yeah! Best we be casual about it. You know? Pick our opportunity.'

'When he's had a few beers ya mean?'

'Grab him! Grab him!' Robbo calls loudly. Everybody turns. Harvey catches collapsing Collapsible Sid and with Jack's assistance lowers him to the floor, Collapsible Sid's schooner loosing not a drop. On the floor, propped against the wall Collapsible Sid will remain drinking until mates help him home to Serendib.

Wizard eventually returns to High Noon, going first to Robbo and offering a TAB ticket.

'Are you placing bets for Robbo?' Splinta asks when Wizard rejoins his two mates.

'Put a dollar on Robbo's Return for his birthday. Omen bets often get up saves me buying him a drink. Don't want to get involved.'

'He's friendly enough.' suggests O'Possum. 'Use to be a postie, but fear of dogs made him give up a good job. They want to take him off unemployment and put him on a disability pension. When his doctor diagnoses him an alcoholic; he never has to look for work again. Can you believe it? And Wiz, this is the best part, doesn't want his Mum to know his a certified alcoholic. Would rather be a mental case.'

Wizard disdainfully shakes his head.

'What do you call it when you're scarred of something Wiz? Medical term?'

'Phobia!'

'Yeah! Yeah he's got a phobia about dogs, women and work.'

'That makes him normal Little Splinta.' Laughs Wizard. 'Bloody useless and painful that's what he is. Speaking of pains popped my head into the Rose & Thorn on my way back.'

'Why bother?' contends O'Possum.

'Audrey makes tasty rolls, salad and chicken today. Shouldn't drink on an empty stomach.'

'Anybody there Wiz?'

'A few different ones dropped in and bought Audrey's rolls washed them down with wine. Not a beer sold.'

'Can't stay in business much longer.' offers O'Possum.

'Shame! Bloody shame you know. Use to be the top watering hole for miles.' reflects Splinta.

'Well! It stands to reason.' explains Wizard. 'An ex-public servant running a pub; must fail. Pub should be a gold mine. Like this so-called lucky-country we live in.'

'All I know.' interjects Splinta 'Charlie doesn't give a stuff about we drinkers. The beers so crook a dog wouldn't drink it. The bastard looks down his nose at us. Treats us like scum when really it's our watering hole.'

'Public service mentality.' continues Wizard. 'Use to spending other people's money. Never runs out when you tax the crap out of everybody and everything.'

'Bugger Charlie goin' out of business, what about me?' Bug eyes demand.

'Splinta mate! You've got a nice little cottage in a nice little suburb. But unless you relocate; you have a real dilemma.'

'Dognapper's dilemma; 'cause there's no other work around.'

'Social Security; simple alternative, government even helps pay the rent.'

Splinta feigns punching O'Possum then the wall.

'Stay here, with your mates and family; go on the dole. Keep the little rental house; don't go mate. No need! Give up your life of crime, and live an honest life.'

Wizard beckons O'Possum to give it a rest.

'I'll go with you, help fill in the forms.' offers O'Possum.

'Go on the dole while you work things out. It's not a bad idea Little Splinta.'

'That's right.' agrees O'Possum.' Just fill in the forms.'

'I told you. No! Way! Still got me dignity.'

'Dignity Little Splinta? Can be a dilemma, a bloody expensive dilemma.'

'Dognapper's dilemma.' laughs O'Possum.

'You don't know the meaning of dignity.' says Splinta poking O'Possum's chest. 'So don't poke fun at me.'

'We've got enough to get pissed.' offers The Wizard. 'That's the main thing. And if my luck holds, an outsider will get up. We can worry about dilemmas tomorrow; things will be clearer tomorrow.'

'Sounds good advice to me.' says O'Possum finishing his schooner. 'Can you lend me twenty until tomorrow Wiz?'

The Wizard reaches for wallet, hesitates. 'Where's the other night's winnings?'

O'Possum shrugs. 'I um ...'

'You put 'em back in? Didn't ya.' accuses Splinta. 'You're bloody useless.'

The Wizard offers twenty before turning to Splinta. 'Main thing is! Don't let things get on top of you. Relax! You'll see. Put the dognapping business behind you.'

'Three please Hazy.' calls O'Possum.

'How's ya neighbour O'Possum, any new stories to brighten up our day?' Hazy cheerfully asks.

'You're not going to believe ... Splinta can back me up. Can't ya mate?'

Splinta opens tobacco, nodding agreement.

'Let me begin with yesterday.' O'Possum relates his story until Wizard interrupts.

'But you, you said there's no way he'd ever bring another dog home?'

'You've been around Wizard. Have you ever seen a bloke, a bloke with blue hair?' asks O'Possum.

'No! Never!' answers Wizard, Splinta shakes his worried head, side to side.

'Funny all right.' agrees O'Possum imitating Splinta's worried look and shaking head.

Splinta cracks a smile and Wizard laughs.

'Fair dinkum! The nut case reckons a bloke with blue hair gave him the dog.'

Splinta and Wizard laugh uncontrollably.

'It's not that funny?' Left out and feeling slighted, O'Possum waits, when laughter subsides he asks 'Who was Little Arnie?'

'Bloody Shakin!' grumbles The Wizard quitting mirth.

'What's the big secret?'

'Happened fifty years ago, who wants to live in the past O'Possum? Only makes you depressed. End up like Shakin. Shunned! Know why? Because he makes everybody else feel depressed.'

'Come on Wiz! Who was Little Arnie?'

'He's dead Little Splinta. Dead! Along with thousands of others, that's what war is about.'

'But who was he?' continues Splinta.

'Argh! Little Arnie! ... A bushy, like me, parents ran sheep on a property at the foot of the Weddin Mountains. Played football against him before the war. That's all!'

'No! No! There's more to it than that.'

'Much more!' contributes O'Possum. 'What's the big secret?'

'Little Arnie! Been years since I spoke of him, best half-back I ever played against. Would have represented "Country" for sure, could have played for Australia, if it wasn't for the stinkin' war. Bloody tough for his size, if he couldn't step ya, he'd run straight over ya.'

'Who did you play for Wiz?' asks O'Possum

'Wombat! Of course!'

'There is such a place, called? Called Wombat?'

'He wouldn't be the wizard of a place that didn't exist. Wake up to ya self O'Possum. Go on Wizard of Wombat.'

'I moved to Sydney before the war, began my apprenticeship, fitter and turner at Randwick. Hadn't seen Little Arnie for a few years. When called up into the army, who was in the same company? Little Arnie, we became best mates.'

Wizard's eyes twinkle, sipping his beer as two friends wait with anticipation.

'I'd ask, Little Arnie! Why do you keep falling in love?'

"Can't help myself Wombat boy. Get an erection and me brains go out the window he he."

'Introduced him to a good sort in Sydney. Couldn't get near her myself. Well! She fell for Little Arnie straight off. Everything was fine; he got a shot away every leave. But she soon pestered him about marriage. I was sitting on the couch in her little bed-sitter, drinking a bottle of beer and Little Arnie was riding her as usual in her squeaky bed. A blanket strung up for privacy. '

'She didn't mind?' asks Splinta astounded.

'He calls out. This is better than ridin' sheep in a paddock, on a wet 'n windy night. Whoo girl!'

'Little Arnie sounds quite the poet.' quips' O'Possum.

'He liked to get a shot away and good with a rifle too.'

'A marksman Wiz?'

'I'd sell my antique 303 in a pub to a cashed up yank. Little Arnie would sneak into the bar and steal it back as I engaged them in bullshit conversation. Then straight to another pub and drink Yankee greenbacks.'

'Ever get caught?' Both ask.

Sold the old rifle, at least twenty times. Remember Little Arnie twice shoving the stock into some poor yank's guts who turned at the wrong time.'

'Really?' Both ask in unison again.

'You were never, never caught out?' quizzes O'Possum.

'Once! In Brisbane. Bloody Publican's missus didn't want to jeopardise Yankee tips. She pointed out Little Arnie putting his hand 'round my 303. We fought our way out. Yanks didn't know what hit 'em when Little Arnie cut loose. Being so short he'd hit 'em straight up the guts or balls. Yanks spewin' everywhere. And doubled up, he upper-cut their chins.' The Wizard feigns to punch his own chin. With me to protect his back he went right through them. He wouldn't leave without my 303. Otherwise! I'm up on another charge.'

'Little Arnie really said that to you while screwing his girlfriend?' O'Possum suffers a persistent mental image.'

'Yeah! True! Well! I peeped over the blanket; saw her bucking brilliantly. Little Arnie loved nothing more than a rodeo root. And time for him to say goodbye before things got serious.'

'What's a rodeo root?' asks O'Possum.

'If the love nest gets boring? Say her sister is better in bed than her; guaranteed to perk things up.' laughing alone. 'Say it to ya missus, what's her name?'

'Birgit!' replies O'Possum, petrified at the thought. 'But she doesn't have a sister!'

'Borrow ya own sister, he he!'

Wizard notices a "Shut-Up," look from Splinta. 'Forget it O'Possum, just joking. Little Arnie, the only bloke brave enough to say such things to the fairer sex.'

"He really said that?' O'Possum massages behind his neck.

'She threw us out. Bitch hit me with a broom. Little Arnie kept begging for forgiveness as he backed out the door. Funny thing! She wrote to him later. Not long before boarding the (HMAS) "Westralia" for Milne Bay, the letter caught up. Wrote she'd forgiven him. Said she understood that farm life could be very frustrating for a young virile man. Begged him to come back to her after the war.'

'Did he write back?' asks O'Possum.

'Not Little Arnie. He laughed and threw her letter in the stove after I read it of course.'

'No regrets regarding the girl?' continues O'Possum.

'Too young! Me seventeen, Little Arnie a year older, and off to fight Japs in the jungle. Not a good time to commit to a girl.'

'Did he ever regret anything? Sounds like Little Arnie could be heartless.' Splinta wishes to distance himself from his namesake.

'Saw Little Arnie sorrowful; only one time. News caught up, two troop trains in Queensland, left stationary alongside each other for too long. One train full of Aussies heading north to Townsville, then by ship to New Guinea to battle the Japs. The other train heading south to Brisbane full of cashed up Yanks about to go on leave and meet our Aussie girls.'

'Another round Hazy!' shouts Splinta.

'A Yank called out, "Pal! Any message for ya girly? Gunna boogie tonight!" Our Aussies answered with their 303's, soon lead flying everywhere. Army tried censoring it, unconfirmed up to twenty dead and many more wounded. How can you censor that; so many victims, so many witnesses?'

'We were fighting the Yanks?' asks Splinta amazed.

'Little Arnie, a tear in his eye, grabbed my sleeve and pulled my ear down to him so nobody else could hear.'

"Wombat Boy! I'd give anything for us to be on that train; give 'em boogie."

'He said what?' two man chorus.

'True! He enjoyed robbing Yanks, giving them an occasional hiding, but only then I realised his hate.'

'But why? They saved us from the Japs.' O'Possum remarks, eyes squinting.

'Some saw us as suffering an American invasion. One night both sober took Splinta to my sister's house in Coogee, where I use to live, doing my apprenticeship. We walked up High Street Randwick; the Yanks bivouacked in the racecourse.'

'"Royal Randwick" mostly enclosed by a two meter high wooden fence. Half way up the hill, the sound of curdling screams, male screams sobs and begging. I suggested going back, but Little Arnie got curious. We got closer and saw an American Negro tied by his ankles upside down on the fence. Pants pulled up to his ankles, exposing his black arse. Several white Yanks stood around, one with a wooden paling pulled from the fence. WHACK! '

Wizard accepts a beer from Hazy, she informs him, 'Compliments of Shakin.'

Wizard nods to Shakin, before lifting the 10 oz middy glass to his lips, and continues. "Be Jesus! Mercy! Mercy!' screams the Negro soldier, a white Yank questions him.'

"Boy! Who gives you (punching him in the kidneys) permission Boy? Speak to white women, do we? Ungrateful guest in a foreign land? Wanna get ya black arse back to Alabamee; ya nigger talk our white women folk. Wanna stick ya big black pecker in a white girl? WHACK! "

'Mercy Boss! Be God! Mercy!'

'Answer me boy.'

'No! No! Ask the road Boss.'

'Once spotted we are invited over, fence paling thrust into my hands.'

"Aussie! Alabamee Black Boy be seducing your pretty girlies. Teach him! Teach him a God dam lesson Aussie."

'He then punched the Negro in the kidneys saying, "If you ever have to fight a black, hit 'em in the kidneys, liver or guts. Never hit here …" He bent and feigned a punch to the Negro's head.'

"Never in the head, won't affect them, only break your hand."

'Being allies and outnumbered, thought it best to accept the offer. I whacked the black arse with a fence paling. Hit him hard. Twice!'

"YOW! Mercy be God! Be Jesus! …. YOW! Take me back to Alabamee."

'Yank took the paling from me and passed it to Little Arnie who smiling smashed it over the Yank's head. Knocked out! Yanks tried attacking Little Arnie, but the fence paling, is soon doing over time breaking arms and smashing heads. "Get the blackfella down Wombat". He hit the ground, pulled up his pants, then ran like an Olympian into the dark.'

'Shit!' says Splinta full of admiration.

'Yeah run; disappeared into the night calling back "Blessed Lord! Blessed Little White Angel. Alabamee!"

'Little Arnie turned on me with menacing eyes, paling held high ready to strike. I backed away; he dropped the paling, calling me several despicable names, said "Save ya cruelty for the Japs!"

'He sounds a lot like you Splinta.' remarks O'Possum.

'I apologised, but Little Arnie told me to shut my trap. Best I kept quiet. Guess Little Arnie's hatred of our Allies began that night.'

'You didn't hate them Wiz?'

'No! Our boys were jealous 'cause Yanks fed their GI's generous greenbacks before feedin' 'em to the Japs.'

'How could Little Arnie die?' argues O'Possum, sincerely puzzled.

Wizard gulps down half filled middy, lights a cigarette, and continues, 'In New Guinea, our platoon was ordered to secure a ridge. Eight of us formed a flanking patrol. We'd lost our Sergeant, sniper got him and the corporal went down with malaria, made Shakin acting corporal. Down on experience an officer took command; Lieutenant Prick With Ears!'

'Not his real name?'

'Blimey! Shut up O'Possum. Let him get on with it.'

'As you will soon understand ...' says Wizard throwing ten dollars on the bar. '...it's better I refer to it, as The Prick With Ears. Little Arnie gave him the name and it soon caught on; even with his fellow officers. Looked like officer material, pencil thin moustache, tall, impeccably dressed even in the bloody jungle. But never have I met a ruder, ignorant prick. When addressing us,' Wizard tilts head back and exaggerates nostrils.' looked straight up the bastard's groomed nose. And he never gave a proper response, only a grunt.'

'Sounds a lot like somebody else.' jests Splinta pointing to the Rose 'n Thorn and notices Shakin moving within earshot behind Wizard.

'A routine patrol soon turned disaster; came to a burnt out clearing, next to no cover. Should've gone 'round and attacked from behind. But half a day, through waist deep mud, mosquitoes, crocodiles, snakes and shit. So Prick With Ears orders Smithy and Ando to scout across the clearing. Looked into Smithy's eyes flashing fear and smelt the fear on Ando. Nobody moved. "I gave an order." commands our gallant officer. Little Arnie spoke up pointing across the clearing, "Japs are waiting. Why get two blokes killed for nothing?"

'Was Little Arnie right?'

'Shut up O'Possum, let Wiz get on with it!'

'Little Arnie said calm and firm, "They are waiting for us you stupid prick." "With ears', some added.' Wizard swallows beer. 'Knowing Little Arnie wouldn't back down, our Lieutenant's hand moved toward his pistol. I slipped the bayonet on my 303. The Lieutenant looked at me, at first thought I was chasing a V.C. But bloody Shakin caught me by surprise and pinned me against a tree.'

'What did Shakin ….?' asks O'Possum lifting fresh schooner to lips.

'I'd run the bayonet through the Lieutenant's guts and twist, keep twisting, 'till it wouldn't twist no more.'

'Blimey Wiz! Murder him?'

'Say Japs did it. The others wouldn't let on.'

'What about Shakin?'

'No! No Little Splinta! When The Prick With Ears asks why I'm pinned to the tree. Shakin says he's brushing a big spider off Private Wombat's neck.'

'Good on Shakin.' smiles O'Possum.

'Did The Prick With Ears believe him?' asks Splinta.

'No! But that could wait. He ordered Little Arnie across the clearing and Little Arnie said "I'll go. But you're gunna come with me ya gutless Prick With Ears." And the prick did, had no choice really. Little Arnie pissed off his 303, said it would slow him down and loaded up with grenades. The rest of us set up cross-fire. Shakin, the Bren gun and two rifles took position; the rest of us with 303's took up another. The Bren gun strafed where we hoped the Japs would be. Nothin'! Little Arnie and the Prick were nearly across, when a bloody machine gun opened fire. Our cross-fire though not much, just enough. The Japs pulled their heads in long enough for Little Arnie and The Prick With Ears to find cover. But they couldn't move.'

'Did you's call for reinforcements?'

'Little Splinta! New Guinea! Not Hollywood. Me, Ando and Smithy, weren't leaving Little Arnie stuck there. As we charged Little Arnie made his move, stepping and weaving like number seven was on his back. He found more cover and threw two grenades. Bloody Ando, poor Ando ...'

Splinta lights up Wizard's cigarette. '... screamed, machine gun got him. Me and Smithy kept goin'. With machine gun fire on us Little Arnie made another break, lobbed a grenade into the nest. Rifle fire still whizzing around, luckily the Bren gun drew most of the Jap bullets. We called out, "Little Arnie stay put." Smithy and me made it to the other side. But the "Little Hero" made another run.'

After swallowing long on his beer Wizard continues. 'Wanted to score under the posts.' Wizard bites his lip, lamenting, looking down at carpet, shaking his head side to side. 'If only he stayed put.'

Splinta, impatient 'Don't stop now. Tell us what happened.'

'Bloody little idiot.' swallows Wizard, lump jamming his throat, clearing, and then looking up again. 'Mongrel Jap machine gun got firing again. Little Arnie lobbed another grenade but copped a burst. Smithy took a bullet in the arm, kept goin', only one good arm, shoved his bayonet up a Jap's arse. Shakin made it across as well, with the Bren gun. I grabbed Smithy, pulled him into some cover because Shakin went berserk, firing at everything. Still hates Japs.'

'Little Arnie! Dead?' asks Splinta, eyes shimmering.

'I got to him, he was still breathin'. All but cut in two. Ya know? The reason, only reason he still drew breathe? Waiting for me, I bent down and cradled his little head. ...'

Wizard's left arm cradles dying mate's head once more, he looks but arm's empty. 'I couldn't help crying.' Sniffles. 'Blubbering like a little kid. Little Arnie could hardly talk, I had to shut up, 'cause I knew they'd be his last words.'

Wizard delivers with a muffled throaty voice "Wombat! The Prick With Ears! Is he alive?"

'I'd forgotten about him but not Little Arnie. I looked around; Prick With Ears was walking toward us. Just left the cover found when the Japs first opened fire. I said, Yeah! Not a scratch on him.'

"Kill the gutless dog. Promise me Wombat."

'Reached for my 303. Kill him now for ya."

"Wombat! Wombat Boy! Make the bastard. Promise me! Make the prick suffer first. Promise!"

'His exact last words. I gripped his hand, and made my solemn promise as his eyes closed.'

'And did ya kill The Prick With Ears Wiz?'

'Little Splinta! ... Had a promise to keep, took a while. As Little Arnie breathed his last, the Prick With Ears joined us, pistol drawn. And he wasn't worried about Japs. The others needed time to calm Shakin. Five of us survived. Smithy lost his arm. Said he didn't care, got him out of hell. The Prick With Ears tried to put me on a charge, but Shakin kept his mouth shut; stuck with the spider story. Next thing both Shakin and me, transferred to an ammo dump.'

'You didn't have to fight anymore?' queries O'Possum.

'Ammo dump? O'Possum! Last place you want to be.'

'H-h-h how, how were you, you on patrol? You were in -in –in-in the stock, stockade again? Shakin ambushes Wombat.

'Back in the stockade again? You mean the time I slid a snake into our Lieutenant's tent? That was well before the patrol.'

'Crikey Wiz!'

'Wasn't poisonous, but didn't tell the Prick With Ears, ha ha ha.'

'Not the snake. Did you make up the story about Little Arnie's death?'

'Shakin's confused, just look at him; (Sings) knock, knock, knocking on Dementia's door.' Wizard knocks three times on the bar top when singing.

'It's, it's true, it's how Little Arnie d-died, except it was me, me cradling his little head. M-me cr-cried; at Little Arnie's last words.'

'A beer for Shakin please Hazy.'

'Splinta! What about the Wizard?'

Wizard's beer empties quickly since Shakin joins the group.

'And Wiz too! What about you?' Splinta asks inspecting O'Possum's half full glass.

'No! No thanks mate, better take it easy.'

'Shakin! How does Wiz know what happened on patrol if he wasn't there?'

'The, the Prick, the Prick with Ears trans, transferred me to the, the ammo dump, and Wombat joined me. When, when released from the stock, stock. I, I told him. Told him everything what happened on patrol.'

Splinta helps Shakin lift beer to lips. The old digger's thirst unquenchable, 9 of 10 ounces slips greedily down his throat. 'Want a fag? I'll roll it for you.'

'Well Shakin, did you brush off an imaginary spider off?' puzzles O'Possum.

'Ando! Ando p,p, pinned me against a tree. That's why, why, tr-transferred to the ammo dump.'

'Shakin's a bit confused about the patrol. But we did time together in the ammo dump. And survived, least I did.'

Nodding agreement Shakin drains his beer without assistance and looks to Hazy for another.

'Remember Shakin?' perseveres Wizard, 'Every time aircraft flew over we shit ourselves. One hit! We'd end up in a million pieces. Shakin use to joke, "Little Arnie won't recognise us when we join him". The place had to go. As did Prick With Ears know, the reason he got us transferred.'

'Wh, what surprised us, it took so long.' adds Shakin after sipping beer unaided.

'What were Little Arnie's last words Shakin?' asks O'Possum.

Shakin smirks glancing at The Wizard, 'Tell Wombat he can do one brave act in this war; kill the Prick With Ears. Make the Prick suffer first.' another sip. 'His exact last words.'

Splinta gulps. 'Little Arnie was accusing …' pointing to Wizard.

'We, we all knew why, why he slid a snake into the tent. Back into stock, stockade, miss the, miss the patrol.' another long sip of beer. 'That's how really, really stupid; the pomp, pompous Prick With Ears was. Con, continue Wom-Wombat. Truth, no lies.' cautions Shakin, a warning finger waving.

'Thank you Shakin. The thanks I get for saving ya life?'

'Get on with the story please Wiz.'

'Jap Zeros eventually found us. Bloody noise; bombs exploding, just missing targets, our ear-drums doing somersaults. Our boys fired anything and everything into the air. Shakin tried bringing 'em down with his 303. Stuff this, I thought, got a promise to keep.'

The Wizard swallows long, beer empties. O'Possum looks at his money, not enough. Wizard motions to Hazy for another round of beers.

'I yelled "Come on Shakin. Gettin' out of here." Didn't I?'

Shakin smiling, nods agreement.

'Well; before our bloody eyes. The Prick With Ears! Not twenty yards away, jumps into a Jeep. Grabbed Shakin's 303, and joined The Prick With Ears just as the motor kicked over. Shoved the rifle into the bastard's guts and ordered him out, ordered Shakin in, behind the wheel.'

'True!' nods Shakin.

'Shakin froze, I bellowed. I'll kill him where he stands and then I'll shoot you. Shakin got the message, put his foot down, nearly tipped me out. I looked back and saw arrogant disbelief in the Prick's eyes. And I laughed, bloody laughed when disbelief turned to terror. Cowardly bloody terror.'

'Crikey! And you's got of there?'

'Only ones that did.' adds Shakin.

'Ditched the jeep up the road, about to set it alight, when a Yank truck heading toward the dump appears, just, just as the bombs find their target. You remember Shakin?'

'Remember?' agrees Shakin, head nodding like a horse. 'Still can't sleep most n-nights. Of all the bad, bad nightmares about war, one truly haunts me.'

'Jeez! What happened Shakin? Wiz?'

'A black Yank GI, eyes huge, lit up by exploding flames behind us, yelling louder than the explosions. Remember Shakin?'

'Like devil possessed.' Shakin nods again. 'How can I forget? Tell em! Tell em what he said.'

'Said? Abandoned a moving truck; must be doing thirty miles an hour. Stood on the running board, one hand steering.'

"Take me back to Alabamee."

'Did you hear him above the bombs Shakin?'

'Still hear him most nights.'

'Flung himself off the truck, and hit the track.'

'Bounced a few times first!' Shakin proudly recalls a crucial detail.

'Jumped to his feet, ran for safety in the opposite direction, shrieking "Mercy! Mercy!" over and over.'

'The damned noise!' adds Shakin loudly, hands over ears.

'Ever see anybody run so fast Shakin?'

'Never!'

'I saw the other Yank Negro in the passenger seat. Horrid; fire in his eyes, hair on end, looking death in the face. Did you see him Shakin?' asks Wizard trembling, revisiting the horror.

'No! Didn't see him and lucky for you. Pulled ya out of the way, nearly a wombat road kill.'

'You saved me?' Wizard offers cigarettes, Shakin first.

'Truck smashed into our jeep!' continues Shakin as Splinta lights his smoke.

'Passenger's head sticking through the windscreen, horrid look on his dead face.' Wizard shivers. 'Neck must've snapped; nothing we could do for him. Zero bombing stopped, we walked back toward the dump, away from the crash scene. Rubbed shit and soot over ourselves and lay in a ditch near the ammo dump.'

'Only you two survived?' asks O'Possum.

'Yeah! Ya know? Lying there in a ditch, pretending to be unconscious; what felt so good about being alive? Knowing I kept my promise didn't let Little Arnie down. How? Why The Prick With Ears was there at the ammo dump, who knows? It was like! Like someone upstairs delivered him to me.'

'To us!'

'That's right Shakin. To us mate'.

'They n-never found the Prick's remains. T-tell 'em what you t-told the inquiry.' laughs Shakin.

'Our gallant Lieutenant, pompous prick, blown into a million pieces or vaporised. Nothing found, not even a button. Testified last we saw, he was driving like a maniac, heading for safety, getting far away from the dump, alone in his jeep. Sounded like a crash down the road, just before the Japs found their target. Concussed, don't remember nothing more.'

'Cowardice!' roars Shakin looking up to heaven. 'Little Arnie! We labelled the Prick a coward. Hope you are proud of us.' …. Shakin softly, 'Amen!'

O'Possum, Splinta and Hazy follow 'Amen!'

Wizard sniffles looking up, 'Amen little mate!'


	16. More Mating Games

How much heat do dogs need to make love, ponders Nobby, perspiration trickles into and stings his eyes. And Stupid is more intent on licking Nobby's face than paying attention to Candy.

'Come on Romeo.' pleads Nobby lifting Stupid onto Candy's back. When Nobby lets go Stupid falls, attempting to scratch himself. Maybe youse need privacy, decides the desperate dog breeder.

'Stay!' commands Nobby and crawls from under the house leaving two little dogs alone. Then the question arises. How will he know if they've done the deed? Nobby sneaks tiptoe, to the other side and hides behind a brick footing. Slowly he leans head to the side, one eye sufficient to spy with. A little less than a foot away, two slightly tilted heads with inquisitive eyes greet Nobby.

Nobby frowns and demands 'Stop that scratchin' Candy. You weren't scratchin' like that before.'

Still determined after a slow start, Nobby scratches his head thinking what to do next? It's back under the house with the dogs, again lifting Stupid onto Candy's back and this time balancing Stupid with one hand and attempts spreading Candy's rear legs with the other.

'Youch!' she nips him on the thumb.


End file.
